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SHOOTING THE RAPIDS IN THE MERRIMAC. — 143, 



THEIR 

I 


Canoe Trip. 


BY 

MARY P. W. SMITH, 

AUTHOR OF 

JOLLY GOOD TIMES, OR CHILD LIFE ON A FARM ; JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT 

school; the browns; miss ellis’s mission; etc. 



% 


♦ 



ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1889. 


Copyrighty 1889y 
By Roberts Brothers, 



Slnffttraita • 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 


L 




i 





TO 

THE TWO ROXBURY BOYS 

UPON WHOSE ACTUAL EXPERIENCES, IN THE SUMMER OF 1875, 
‘ THIS STORY IS FOUNDED, 

IT IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED. 


I 


9 


t 







CONTENTS, 


Chapter . page 

I. The Council of War 7 

II. Getting Under Way 21 

III. Off at Last 32 

IV. Down the Piscataquog 51 

V. An Adventure 66 

VI. A Damper 87 

VII. On, Down, and In 98 

VIII. To Manchester 118 

IX. The Canoe Lost 134 

X. The Merry Maiden 150 

XL On the Concord 167 

XII. Classic Ground 181 

XIII. Up the Sudbury 191 

XIV. The Paper-Mill 203 

XV. A Naval Engagement 213 

XVL Mill-Creek 225 

XVI 1 . On the Neponset 238 

XVIII. In Port . . . .' 250 


There is in my nature^ methinks^ a singular 
yearning towards all wildness. 


Thoreau ; 

A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, 




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Bli^e^'S 





THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


CHAPTER I. 

THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 

HAT idea do you suppose Herbert 



has in his head now?” asked Miss 


Asenath, as she entered the Osborne library 
one June morning with the bearing of a person 
who has a mission laid upon her. 

** Dear me ! I’m sure I don’t know,” said 
Mrs. Osborne, her forehead wrinkling in anxious 
lines that seemed habitual. Her youngest boy, 
Herbert, was a lively responsibility, whose prop- 
er management absorbed much of the ener- 
gies of his family, more especially of his aunt 
Asenath. 

What is it now?” asked Marion. **He has 
n’t broached any very important new scheme 
since father refused to let him ship as a common 


8 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


sailor, after he read Dana’s ^ Two Years Before 
the Mast’ ” 

“ Well, it is n’t quite so bad as that,” said 
Aunt Asenath, loosening her bonnet-strings 
and" fanning herself vigorously, for she had 
walked rapidly in her excitement; “though it’s 
almost as dangerous, so far as it goes. He 
wants to go off on a canoeing trip with Gifford 
King somewhere up in the wilds of Maine, and 
be gone all summer, camping out and canoeing. 
Susie Fox told Nellie Mitchell all about it, and 
Nellie has just told me. I walked up from 
Winthrop Street with her.” 

“ Then that is what he and Gifford have 
been brewing,” said Marion. “ They have had 
their heads together all the time lately, like two 
conspirators.” 

“ His father will never consent, I know,” said 
Mrs. Osborne. 

“ I don’t feel so sure of that, mother,” said 
Marion. “ Bert has a wonderful faculty of 
bringing father around to his point of view.” 

“Oh yes,- James will consent. James has an 
idea that boating, gunning, swimming, skat- 
ing, all those dangerous sports make a boy 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


9 


manly, said Aunt Asenath, severely. ^‘For 
my part, I wonder any boys live to grow 
up, considering all the risks they delight in 
running.” 

Perhaps, Aunt Asenath, there ’s a divinity 
that shapes boys’ ends, rough-hew them how 
they will, with a view to the perpetuation of 
the race,” suggested Marion. 

I ’m sure Bert needs a special providence 
to look after him, if any boy ever did,” said 
Aunt Asenath, firmly. “ One thing is certain. 
I shall use all my influence with brother James 
against this wild scheme.” 

“ Of course you will,” Marion thought, but 
did not say. Nor did she suggest that Aunt 
Asenath considered herself Bert’s special provi- 
dence, a “ humble instrument” to save his life 
against his own inclinations. 

Mrs. Osborne dismissed her anxieties and 
reassured Miss Asenath, serene in the convic- 
tion that Mr. Osborne would make the right 
decision. 

When 'Herbert came home to Roxbury that 
afternoon from the Latin School, he found 
the whole family on the front porch. Mr. 


10 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Osborne, whose vocation was law, but whose 
hobby was gardening, had come home early to 
engage in a hand-to-hand conflict with the de- 
testable slugs that were devouring his choicest 
roses, but had been seduced from the path of 
duty by the too great temptations of the east 
porch, cool in the shifting shadows of great 
trees, — trees of his ancestors’ planting. Coming 
from the heated, noisy city, it was not in mortal 
man to resist enjoying for a little the comforts 
of his home, — the home he had created and 
sustained. He had sunk into the big Shaker 
rocking-chair standing ready for him by his 
wife’s side, and was sipping a glass of iced rasp- 
berry shrub which Marion had just brought 
him. He leaned back, his eyes falling compla- 
cently on Marion, — a personification of June, 
in her white dress, — on the saucy gray scj’uirrels 
scampering down one tree-trunk and up another, 
on the flickering light and shadow, on the green- 
sward, looking, as Herbert noticed, a picture 
of serenity. Father’s moods varied; and when 
one had a doubtful favor to ask, it was extremely 
desirable, as Herbert well knew, to “ make hay 
when the sun shone.” 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


II 


Well, Bert,” said Marion, laughing, “ * con- 
cealment is useless ! ’ Aunt Asenath is close on 
the scent. Your scheme is out.” 

“ What scheme? ” 

“ The canoe trip to the wilds of Maine, to 
be sure.” 

“Thunder!” exclaimed Herbert, throwing 
down a pile of learned-looking Greek and Latin 
books on the porch floor and dropping beside 
them, tipping over Marion’s work-basket by the 
simple process of sitting down in it. 

“ Dear me, Bert,” exclaimed Marion, “ I do 
wish you were n’t such a — hurricane ! ” 

“ I ’ll pick everything up,” said Herbert, 
reaching far and near for the rolling spools as 
he sat, with the proverbial trouble of the “ lazy 
man ” who “ takes the most pains.” 

“ Why have you been so secret about it, 
Bert?” asked his father. “You know I detest 
slyness above everything.” 

“ We wanted to arrange our plans before we 
said anything about them. I intended to ask 
you to-night. . I don’t see how Aunt Asenath 
got hold of it.” 

“ Nellie Mitchell told her.” 


12 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ Oho ! I see. Gif never can keep anything 
from Sue Fox, nor she from Nellie Mitchell. 
That explains.” 

“ Well, let ’s hear about your plans, Bert,” 
said his father. 

“ Why, Gif has a canoe up at his uncle’s in 
New Hampshire, — a perfect little beauty, he 
says. He left her there last summer. We 
want to take a trip in her in vacation, and 
bring her home. That ’s all. The * wilds 
of Maine ’ are all in Nellie Mitchell’s 
imagination.” 

“ Bert, I know I should not sleep a wink 
while you were gone,” said his mother, the 
anxious wrinkles in full relief. “ Canoes are 
so terribly dangerous ! ” 

‘‘And Bert is so dangerous,” said Marion. 

“Yes, that is the worst of it,” said his father. 
“You are so careless and thoughtless, Bert, apt 
to take foolish risks, and run into unnecessary 
danger. As your mother says, we should suffer 
great anxiety about you, and not without good 
reason.” 

“ But I ’m going with Gif, father ; Gif is steady 
enough for two.” 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


13 


“True, if you were going, I should prefer 
Gifford King for your companion to any boy 
I know. But I doubt Mrs. King’s consent; 
Gifford is her only child, and her idol. And 
Gifford is too near your own age to have 
any authority over you. I ’m sorry to disap- 
point you, Bert, but I don’t see how I can 
consent.” 

Mrs. Osborne looked relieved, while Herbert’s 
face fell. ^ 

But here the click of the front gate announced 
a visitor, and soon from behind the shrubbery 
appeared Aunt Asenath’s tall form striding up 
the path. Herbert groaned in spirit. “ Now for 
it ! ” he thought. 

Before Aunt Asenath reached the porch there 
was another click of the gate, and Mrs. King 
and Gifford came in. 

“ I foresee a grand council of war,” cried 
Herbert. Here are all the high contracting 
powers assembled. Glad to see you. Gif. It ’s 
hard work rowing up-stream alone, against the 
current.” 

Mrs. King had Gifford’s arm as she came up 
the walk ; not that she needed support, but she 


14 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


loved to lean on this manly son, so much taller 
than his little mother,” as he called her. 

Gifford was tall for his age, and slender, his 
fair complexion, yellow hair, and blue eyes con- 
trasting as strongly with his friend Herbert’s 
swarthy skin and black eyes dancing with mis- 
chief, as did his quiet, persistent temperament 
with the other’s mercurial nature, whimsical 
vivacity, and overflowing spirits. Herbert was 
considerably shorter than Gifford, but of a 
firmer, stouter build, so that in strength they 
were well matched. 

So inseparable were the two, that Marion 
called them the “ plus ^Eneas ” and the fidus 
Achates,” although, as she said, “ frisky ” would 
have been a better descriptive adjective for this 
particular Achates. What drew together in so 
strong a friendship boys seemingly so unlike, 
was a mystery. But under Gifford’s quiet de- 
meanor lurked the keenest sense of fun, as 
Herbert well knew, and the blue eyes could 
flash as keenly as Herbert’s black ones. Gif- 
ford’s sense of the ludicrous was abundantly 
ministered to by Herbert’s numerous exploits, 
and he appreciated the warm, loving heart that 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


15 


went with the thoughtless, often, it seemed, reck- 
less, head of his friend ; while Gifford’s thorough 
manliness was like a rock of refuge to Herbert 
in all his moods and phases. 

I hope, Gifford, you are bringing up re- 
inforcements for our side,” said Herbert. ‘^It’s 
going hard with the right ; and here comes Aunt 
Asenath bearing down on us like a man-of-war 
under full sail, a cannon out of every port-hole, 
loaded to the muzzle, ready to pour in a broad- 
side that shall blow us all out of the water. Don’t 
deny the soft impeachment, Aunt Senie.” 

I certainly shall not,” said Aunt Asenath 
with decision. I hope,^ Jame$, you will not 
think for a moment of consenting to this hare- 
brained, foolhardy scheme of Bert’s. Anything 
more foolish I never heard of. We all know 
what canoes are, — tipply, tottly, dangerous 
things. I never trusted myself in one, and I 
never will. And you know just how prudent 
and cautious Herbert is likely to be. If he 
is n’t drowned, — which he is sure to be, — he 
will contract typhoid fever, or some other fatal 
disease, in that exposed life. I presume he ’ll 
get his feet damp — ” 


i 


i6 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Here both Herbert and Gifford burst into 
irrepressible laughter. 

“ You need n’t laugh, boys,” said Aunt Ase- 
nath, solemnly. “It’s no laughing matter, es- 
pecially for you, Herbert. Summer is a sickly 
season, and you have inherited the Osborne 
stomach, I’m sorry to say. You would scorn 
to take proper clothing, and if you had it, you 
would either lose it or not wear it. You will 
probably get consumption fixed on you, if 
you ’re not carried off by something sudden, 
like pneumonia or dysentery.” 

“ Cassandra was nowhere compared to you, 
Aunt Senie,” said Herbert, perceiving that both 
his mother and Mrs. King were deeply impressed 
by his aunt’s mournful presages. 

“ I know that you, Mrs. King, feel just as I 
do about it,” said Aunt Asenath, turning to that 
lady. 

“ I confess I was very much opposed to the 
plan at first,” said Mrs. King ; “ but Gifford here, 
as you all know, is too apt to wind his mother 
around his little finger. So I was almost per- 
suaded when I came over to consult Mr. .Os- 
borne about the boys’ plans. But I must say 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR, 


17 


I fear you are right, Miss Osborne. There are 
so many possibilities of danger in such a trip.” 

Oh, I know it,” exclaimed Mrs. Osborne, 
looking almost tearfully at Herbert, as if he 
were already beginning to fade away. “ I 
really hope, father, you will not give your 
consent.” 

Of course he will not,” said Aunt Asenath, 
briskly. I am sure, James, you have too much 
sense to think of countenancing such a scheme 
even for a moment.” 

Now, Miss Asenath had a great influence over 
her brother. She had a rare gift of developing 
in him all the latent obstinacy of the masculine 
nature, and, as Herbert said, “ Aunt Senie can 
almost always make father do what she does n’t 
want him to.” 

So now Mr. Osborne, who in the beginning 
had been inclined to refuse Herbert’s request, 
began to think of it quite favorably. 

You must consider this, Mrs. King,” said he. 
“ The long summer vacation is close at hand, 
when the boys will have nothing to do for 
weeks. Will it not in . every way be better for 
them to spend this time in healthy, vigorous, 
2 


i8 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


outdoor sport, in woods and fields, than to be 
lying about Boston all summer in idleness? 
Idleness is the mother, and father too, of mis- 
chief. Boys must learn sometime, Asenath, to 
take care of themselves. I can see that such 
a trip as the boys propose may teach them 
much worth knowing. It will be a capital thing 
for them to be thrown on their own resources 
for awhile, and learn to rough it. Nothing like 
it for making boys manly. The more I think 
of it, the more I feel inclined to favor the trip,” 
concluded Mr. Osborne, decidedly. 

Bert was wild with joy at this unexpected 
turn in the tide that had set so strongly against 
him. He slapped Gifford on the knee, with a 

Hurrah, old sport ! We ’re going ! ” and seiz- 
ing Marion by the waist, waltzed away with her 
around the wide porch, in spite of her remon- 
strances that he was ruining her dress. 

“ I presume Mr= Osborne is right,” said his 
wife, as she leaned over to rescue the pitcher of 
raspberry shrub from Bert’s devastating progress. 

“ If you really approve, Mr. Osborne,” said 
Mrs. King, ‘‘ I suppose I must consent, Gifford’s 
heart is so set on this trip.” 


THE COUNCIL OF IVAR. 


19 


“ Well,” said Aunt Asenath gloomily, re- 
member, whatever happens, that I forewarned 
you. My skirts are clear. It’s Marion’s first 
summer out, and I had planned to take her 
to the White Mountains and Mt. Desert. But 
now, there ’s no telling what is in store for us. 
It ’s likely to be a very sad summer for us all ! ” 
“ Cheer up, cheer up. Aunt Senie ! ” cried 
Herbert, leaning over the back of his aunt’s 
chair, and giving her a resounding kiss. “ I ’ll 
be tremendously careful. I ’ll wear my ulster 
and arctics, if you say so. And I ’ll bring you 
home such rare flowers for your herbarium as 
you never laid eyes on.” 

You are good-hearted, Bert, I must confess, 
in spite of your wild ways,” said his aunt, much 
mollified. “ If you could get me a specimen of 
that fern Professor Bracket was describing the 
other evening, I should be delighted. I think 
it ’s found in New Hampshire.” 

“ You shall have it. Aunt Senie, if I perish 
several times securing it.” 

“ And if you will persist in going,” added Aunt 
Asenath, “ I will fit .you out with a case of 
homoeopathic remedies to take along, and Dr. 


20 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


Air’s book of symptoms and directions; fol- 
low that implicitly, and you will be all right.” 

“ Saved ! saved ! ” cried Herbert, striking 
a melodramatic attitude, which broke up the 
council of war in a general laugh. 


GETTING UNDER WAY. 


21 


CHAPTER 11. 

GETTING UNDER WAY. 

OW began busy times for the King and 



^ Osborne families. Herbert kept a diary, 
and his entry at this time, covering a whole 
week, was simply this, scrawled in huge letters, 
covering a page : — 

Trip ! Trip ! Nothing but Trip ! ! ” 

A most truthful entry it was. 

Fortunately, vacation had now begun, and 
the boys were thus enabled to give their whole 
attention to preparations for the trip. 

The King and Osborne grounds joined. The 
boys had made a stile in the division fence. 
This summer a beaten path was worn in the 
lawns between the two houses, there were so 
many points on which Mrs. King and Mrs. Os- 
borne must consult each other, while Gifford 
and Herbert were constantly being struck with 


22 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


bright ideas and happy thoughts, requiring im- 
mediate consultation on their part. The pro- 
posed trip excited the liveliest interest among 
all the boys’ neighbors and relatives, and every 
one had the most obliging suggestions to make, 
advice to offer, cautions to give. The vital ques- 
tion was not, as might be supposed, what to 
take, but rather what not to take, at least from 
the boys’ point of view. 

Mrs. King and Mrs. Osborne mended and made 
stanch for the coming conflict certain rejected 
trousers and heavy jackets which had been laid 
aside for the worthy poor, but were felt to be 
just the things for the canoe trip. The boys 
found Marion fitting out for them a box of 
needles, thread, buttons, etc. 

“What’s that for, Marion?” asked Herbert. 
“Do 3^ou expect we’re going to put in our 
spare time doing fancy-work, like two girls ? ” 

“ It will be so convenient, Herbert,” said his 
mother, “ if a button comes off, or you tear your 
clothes.” 

“ I generally tie myself up with a piece of 
string,” said Herbert. “But put them in; I 
dare say Gif, here, can sew.” 


GETTING UNDER WAY. 


23 


“ Put in plenty of darning-needles then,” said 
4 Gifford, “ if I Vn to do the sewing. I never use 
anything smaller.” 

Aunt Asenath brought over, with the case of 
homoeopathic remedies and the book of medical 
advice, a huge roll of flannel pieces, a box of pre- 
pared mustard plasters, a large bottle of arnica, 
much court-plaster, and various other articles 
she said they were sure to need. The boys 
did not hurt her feelings by rejecting these 
well-meant attentions, but foresaw that they 
should soon lose or forget this portion of their 
luggage. 

Mrs. Osborne and Mrs. King who were allo- 
pathic, said nothing to Aunt Asenath, but quietly 
prepared bottles of rhubarb, Jamaica ginger, 
camphor, cholera medicine, vaseline, glycerine, 
etc., which they resolved should go, whatever 
else was omitted. 

If we get hard up, Bert,” said Gifford, when 
he saw this array of bottles, all carefully tied 
and labelled, “ we can start a drug-store some- 
where up in New Hampshire. We shall certainly 
have a full outfit. By the way, did you get 
that rope ? ” 


24 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ I’ve bought two capital ones, strong enough 
to anchor a steamship. What do you call your 
canoe, Gif ? I never heard her name.” 

“The ^Black-eyed Susan,”’ replied Gififord, 
looking Herbert straight in the eye, with a 
laugh-if-you-dare expression. 

“ Oho 1 Aha ! I see,” cried Herbert. “ I 
must say, Gif, for a plain, steady, matter-of-fact 
appearing fellow on the surface, you have rather 
a deepish vein of romance in you. You’re an 
out-and-out ‘ still gazelle.’ ” 

“ My dear boy, you may possibly have heard 
that homely but truthful old adage, — ‘ The pot 
can’t call the kettle black.’ In view of your 
state of mind about Bessie Temple, I don’t see 
how you can say much.” 

“ Oh, Bessie Temple ! Of course,” said Her- 
bert. “ That ’s all right But I don’t pretend 
not to care, and you do. That ’s the difference.” 

“To change the subject,” said Gifford, “what 
do you think of this?” And with some tri- 
umph he produced from its brown paper wrap- 
ping a dark-lantern. 

“ The very thing ! ” cried Herbert, delighted 
with the air of adventure and mystery this at 


GETTING UNDER WAY. 


25 


once threw over the trip. “ I Ve laid in a 
hatchet, a lot of tacks and shingle-nails and 
matches, and a box of wooden toothpicks.” 

“ Good ! ” 

But what do you suppose is Aunt Asenath’s 
latest idea? She insists we shall take our winter 
flannels and ulsters ! She had lots to say about 
the changeableness of the New Hampshire cli- 
mate, cold nights, northeast rain-storms, and I 
don’t know what not, till my mother and yours 
decided that it would n’t do any hurt for us to 
take them, even if we did n’t use them.” 

They forget,” said Giflbrd, “ that one small 
canoe cannot possibly hold all the contents of 
two large houses.” 

“ I know it,” said Herbert. “ I wonder Aunt 
Asenath doesn’t insist on our taking a base- 
burner and an ice-chest, to be ready for all the 
emergencies she foresees ! But never mind, 
she ’s awfully good, after all ; she ’s given me 
five dollars to help get our outfit.” 

“ That certainly covers a deal of good advice,” 
said Giflbrd, laughing. 

The question of provisioning the “ Black-eyed 
Susan ” for the voyage was the most agitating of 


26 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


all, and brought out all the counsellors in full 
force. 

“Mother,” remonstrated Herbert, “you must 
remember you are not provisioning the ^ king’s 
navee.’ This is only two boys and a canoe.” 

“ Two boys can manage to dispose of con- 
siderable food, I ’ve noticed,” said Mrs. Osborne, 
“ and canoeing will make you very hungry. If 
you only would consent to taking a frying-pan 
and a coffee-pot, as Aunt Asenath suggests, and 
a ham,, and a piece of dried beef, and bacon, 
and some cans of fruit and pickles, you would 
find they would not come amiss.” 

“ Well, we ’ve compromised. We are going to 
take the coffee-pot and some coffee and sugar.” 

“ I don’t see where you will get cream,” said 
Aunt Asenath. 

“ Oh, I know how to milk,” said Gifford. 

“There’ll be plenty of cows all along the 
river-banks,” said Herbert. “ We intend to go 
'in light marching order, and live off the enemy’s 
country.” 

In addition to coffee and sugar, the boys were 
only willing to take some devilled ham, bags of 
crackers and cookies, salt, and raisins. 


GETTING UNDER WAY, 


27 


“ I know,” said Herbert, that this is a vastly 
more important expedition than Stanley’s across 
the Dark Continent. But, with all deference to 
Aunt Asenath, it is not quite as dangerous, nor 
shall we be as many miles from a lemon, and 
the other comforts of civilization, as was our 
fellow-explorer. Besides, Gif is going to take 
his rifle, and I my fish-pole, and it will go hard 
if we don’t strike some game.” 

think the boys are right,” said Mr. Os- 
borne. “ They can always buy what they need, 
and it is not best to overload them. In these 
days of telegraphs and railroads they are not 
likely to suffer, in any contingency.” 

The boys were each to take a woollen blanket, 
and Herbert had a rubber blanket, a relic of his 
older brother’s war experiences, which the boys 
felt would prove useful. Their boating-rig was 
dark-blue flannel shirts and knickerbockers, 
heavy jackets and the old trousers aforesaid 
being, taken for emergencies. 

Although to the boys’ impatience the days 
seemed to crawl along at an aggravatingly slow 
pace, and to delight in crawling, at last every- 
thing was ready, and the date of starting was 


28 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


fixed, — a date which the boys felt ought almost 
to go into history with the immortal Fourth. 

The evening before leaving, Herbert had gone 
around to “ bid the Temples good-by.” It was 
a lovely July night, all moonlight, and fire- 
flies dancing about, faint summer breezes full of 
flower-fragrance breathing suggestions of poetry 
and romance to young souls. 

Herbert had a very satisfactory call. Bessie 
really seemed quite pensive, for her, and when 
he came away, graciously sauntered down to the 
gate with him, looking so pretty in her white 
dress in the moonlight. And she had given him 
a rosebud, and a little pocket pincushion shaped 
like a heart, and symbolically stuck full of pins. 
Herbert had put it in his left vest-pocket, where, 
being of crimson plush, it diffused a perceptible 
glow through all that region. 

This was all delightful, and Herbert was strid- 
ing cheerfully along, whistling, in high spirits, 
when at the corner of Walnut Avenue he 
almost ran into Gifford. The Foxes lived on 
Walnut Avenue. 

“ Aha ! ” cried Herbert, hooking his arm in 
Gifford’s, “ I thought you were going over to 


GETTING UNDER WAY. 


29 


your aunt Sarah’s this evening, you devoted 
nephew ! ” 

“ Been there,” said Gififord, shortly. 

“Yes, and somewhere else too. What’s the 
use of trying to be so tremendously sly about 
your little affairs, — so fox-like, I may say? 
You know it’s useless; you can’t deceive me. 
My penetrating eye — ” 

“ Do you know, Bert,” interrupted the reticent 
Gifford, seeking to divert Bert’s attention from 
his private affairs, “ the girls all think our trip 
is immense?” 

“Yes, I know they do,” said Bert 

“ And they are all talking of being on hand 
to-morrow morning to see us off.” 

Herbert was alarmed, remembering the ex- 
tent and variety of their luggage, the old 
carpet-sack, a relic of bygone ages, that had 
been unearthed from some dark corner of the 
attic as quite good enough to be sacrificed 
to his use on this trip, and Gifford’s rusty 
valise. 

“ It will never do. They ’ll never get over 
laughing at us. We must contrive to dodge 
them somehow.” 


30 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ I agree with you. I think we ’d best get 
off by five o’clock. It will give us all the more 
time to make our connections.” 

Agreed,” said Herbert. 

So, in the stillness of the early morning, when 
every bird in Roxbury was singing rapturously, 
as if it knew all about the canoe trip and sym- 
pathized with the boys’ feelings, when the tree- 
shadows stretched long and cool from the east- 
ward across the dewy lawns, when no one was 
stirring save an occasional ice-man or milkman, 
the “ two great explorers, the second Kane and 
Livingstone,” as Herbert was fond of calling 
his friend and himself, said farewell to their 
foreboding families, received their last warn- 
ings and cautions, and turned their backs as 
joyfully on their luxurious homes as if escap- 
ing from prison, hieing to Boston to take the 
train for New Hampshire, where the “ Black- 
eyed Susan ” was supposed to be literally leap- 
ing out of the water in impatience for their 
arrival. 

Great was the stillness, the sense of emp- 
tiness and desolation, that settled down over 
their respective households after their depart- 


GETTING UNDER WAY. 


31 


ure, even though every one did draw a long 
breath, and experience a certain sense of relief. 

Mrs. King felt that it was almost more than 
she could bear. 

“ I Ve half a mind to go up in New Hamp- 
shire and board, in order to be close at hand 
if anything happens,” she said. 

“ Oh, nothing is going to happen,” said Mr. 
Osborne, cheerfully. “ Boys must go into the 
water if they are to learn how to swim. Leave 
them to themselves, and let them learn to fight 
life’s battle on their own account.” 


32 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


CHAPTER HI. 


OFF AT LAST. 


RRIVED at the home of Gififord’s uncle, in 



Francestown, New Hampshire, after some 
decent inquiries for the welfare of his relatives, 
Gifford’s first question was to ask the state of 
the “ Black-eyed Susan.” 

Oh, she ’s all right ; taut as — as a drum,” 
said Uncie Nathan, heartily. “ I Ve got her 
out of winter-quarters, on the lake, all ready 
for you. I knew the grass would n’t have 
much time to grow under your feet after you 
got here, before you boys would have to in- 
spect that canoe.” 

We ’ll go right down to the lake now, 
before tea, if Aunt Eliza don’t mind,” said 
Gifford. 

There, on the clear water, sat the trim and 
jaunty “Black-eyed Susan,” as much a thing 


OFF AT LAST 


33 


of beauty as the pretty girl whose name she 
was honored by bearing. She was a light can- 
vas canoe, about fourteen feet long, and two 
and three-quarters feet wide across the centre ; 
was painted a light green, with a small white 
star on the starboard bow, for luck,” Gifford 
said. When loaded, she drew about two inches 
of water. 

Her beautiful curves, the airy grace of her 
outlines, the ease with which she sat the water, 
filled Gifford’s heart with pride, while Herbert, 
who had never seen her before, embraced Gif- 
ford in a wild burst of rapture. 

** Oh, Gif,” he cried, ** she is beautiful ! She 
is immense ! A swan is awkward compared to 
her!” 

“ Yes, she is a pretty thing,” admitted Gifford, 
a quiet satisfaction at Herbert’s admiration shin- 
ing in his eyes. 

Canoe and paddles, as Uncle Nathan had said, 
were all found sound and in good shape for the 
strain of the coming trip. 

The outlet of this lake where the canoe lay 
was the Piscataquog River. Down this stream 
the boys proposed paddling into the Merrimac, 
3 


34 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


and thence home to Boston by the network of 
little inland rivers in Massachusetts. 

It took a few days at Francestown to com- 
plete all arrangements for the final start, so that 
it was late in July ere Herbert was able to enter 
in his journal : — 

“ Weather fine ! My hopes are at last real- 
ized ! We are started ! ” 

There is a fine dash and go about this pas- 
sage, which suggests the voyagers leaping 
aboard, seizing their paddles, pushing off and 
away, the Black-eyed Susan ” bounding down 
the swift current, impelled by two pairs of strong 
young arms, at lightning speed. 

Unfortunately the actual facts did not realize 
this pleasing picture, but were much more pro- 
saic, as facts are wont to be. The boys found, 
on examination, that the river was not practica- 
ble for a canoe until it reached Willow Bridge, 
some way below Francestown ; so they were 
forced to engage Mr. Hull, a friendly farmer, 
and an old acquaintance of Gifford in former 
summers, to convey canoe, canoeists, and lug- 
gage to this point. 

The boys tenderly supported the Black-eyed 


OFF AT LAST. 


35 


Susan ” upon each side as they jogged along the 
stony road, lest some rude jolt should bruise 
her tender sides, — 

“ Fashioned so slenderly, 

Young, and so fair,’' 

as Herbert said. 

Their departure from Francestown, though 
not romantic, was not unattended with iclat, all 
the small boys of the surrounding country, 
attracted by the novel sight, and the fame of 
the canoeists* coming exploits, gathering in 
force, and escorting the wagon on its way with 
appropriate demonstrations, and such wild boot- 
ings as brought every man, woman, and child 
along the route to door or window, to watch 
the wagon till out of sight. 

At last the canoe was safely launched on the 
waters of the Piscataquog. 

Here we go ! ” said Gifford, smiling at Her- 
bert, as he picked up his paddle. 

Yes, we ’re off at last,” said Herbert, ex- 
citedly. “ Good-by, Mr. Hull, good-by ! ” 
waving his hat to that gentleman, sitting in his 
wagon, watching the boys off with a sympa- 


36 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


thetic grin, while his old horse turned her head 
too, and regarded her late load solemnly, as if 
glad to see the last of them. 

Good-by, boys ! Luck go with you ! ” 
shouted Mr. Hull, waving his hat in return, as 
the boys glided off. 

Hi yi ! Whoop ! Hooray ! ” yelled the 
small boys, turning a few extra somersets to 
celebrate the occasion, and hastening to throw 
stones after our heroes, in a well-meant effort to 
‘‘ give ’em a good splashing,” then dropping 
all, and scudding off to hang on behind Mr. 
Hull’s wagon. 

There is nothing like realizing a long-deferred 
expectation. The boys were perfectly happy 
as they sped swiftly down the clear, bright 
stream. At last they were really off on the 
long-talked-of, dreamed-of, hoped-for tri^, free 
to do as they pleased, their own masters, an 
unknown world before them to be conquered, 
and all sorts of adventures awaiting them, in 
imagination. 

^‘This is something like it. Gif! ” said Bert. 

Yes ; she slips along beautifully, does n’t 
she?” 


OFF AT LAST. 


37 


‘‘ Light as a feather. I ’d no idea canoeing 
would be so easy. We paddle together capi- 
tally, too.” 

Hallo, what ’s this ! ” suddenly exclaimed 
Gifford, as they rounded a projecting point of 
rocks. “ Hold on, Bert ! Snags ahead ! ” 

Herbert “ held on ” just in time to prevent 
the “ Susan ” crashing into a huge rock project- 
ing from mid-current. For some distance ahead 
the bed of the stream wSs full of great rocks, 
among and around which the water rushed in 
tortuous channels that seemed impassable for 
the canoe. 

“ This is a pretty how d’ ye do ! ” said Herbert, 
disgusted at this unexpected conduct on the 
part of the Piscataquog. What are we going 
to do now?” 

** There 's nothing for it but to strip, and pull 
some of these rocks out of the way, so we can 
get the 'Susan ’ through,” said Gifford, taking off 
his shoes and stockings. 

Herbert followed suit, and the boys were 
soon in the water to their waists, pulling and 
heaving rocks about like two young Titans. 
It was now the middle of the day, and the 


38 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


summer sun beat hotly down on their bent and 
weary backs. 

‘‘Fun, isn’t it?” said Herbert grimly, after 
they had toiled vigorously for some time, with- 
out making progress at all proportioned to 
their exertions. 

“ Oh, this is n’t going to last much longer,” 
said Gifford. “ We ’ll soon get out of this, and 
then we ’ll be all right.” 

But when, after an hour’s steady work, they 
had only succeeded in getting the “ Susan ” a 
few ro^s farther down-stream, even. Gifford’s per- 
sis^nce began to fail. 

“ Well, this is slow work,” he said, standing 
up in the water, the perspiration rolling down 
his glowing red face. “ See here, Bert ; I believe 
I ’ll go up to that house over there and borrow 
a wheelbarrow to take the canoe around this 
place. You be unloading her while I ’m gone.” 

“ All right ! ” said Herbert. “ I should think 
it was about time for you to give in, if you 
don’t wish soon to have to 

‘ think of one who in his youthful beauty died, 

The fair meek blossom that toiled on and faded by your 
side.* 


OFF A T LAST. 


39 


I knew it was useless to stand out. If you 
had made up your mind to pull the White 
Mountains down, and throw them into the 
sea, you would die doing it, before you would 
give up. This water is awfully cold. Between 
roasting above, and freezing below, and a gen- 
eral vacancy within, I think I begin to feel 
several of Aunt Senie’s diseases coming on. 
Where 's that cheerful book of deadly symptoms 
she gave us ? ” 

Undisturbed by his friend’s sarcasm, to which 
indeed long use had hardened him, Gifford 
struck off across lots for the wheelbarrow ; while 
Herbert, after unloading the canoe, sat ort^he 
bank in the shade, munching crackers, until his 
friend’s return with the wheelbarrow, upon which 
they fastened the canoe and paddles, Gifford 
going ahead with them, while Herbert followed, 
laden with the carpet-bag, valise, roll of blankets, 
and the other impedimenta. 

Presently Gifford found himself alone, Her- 
bert having fallen far in the rear. 

“ What’s the matter?” shouted Gifford. 

“ Nothing. This coffee-pot is too numerous, 
that ’s all, and I ’m strapping it on my back to 


40 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


get it out of the way. Go ahead. I ’ll soon 
overtake you. This load ’s nothing, to a second 
Hercules like me.” 

After a while, finding that Herbert was still 
far behind, Gifford sat down to rest and wait for 
him. Presently Herbert came puffing along, 
stumbling over stones and tree-roots. 

** This is real romantic, is n’t it. Gif ? ” he 
exclaimed, with an air of profound disgust, 
throwing himself and his burdens on the ground, 
to the imminent danger of the coffee-pot. 
“ There ’s nothing like canoeing, for out-and-out 
fun : — 

* A life on the ocean wave. 

And a home on the rolling deep. 

Where the scattered waters rave, 

And the winds their revels keep, — 

The wi-i-inds, the wi-i-inds, the wi-inds 
their rev-els keep! ’ ” 

This last jerked out in a prolonged roar that 
woke all the sleeping echoes in the hills about, 
and caused Gifford to protest. 

“Don’t roar in that unearthly way, Bert! 
The natives will hear your howling, get out 
their shot-guns, and hunt us down for river 
pirates I ” 


OFF AT LAST. 


41 


“ You evidently have no ear for music, Gif. 
I always mistrusted it; now I know it. An 
appreciative person would have been touched, 
moved to tears, I may say, at hearing a suffer- 
ing soul pour forth its agony in song. Did n’t 
you notice that my voice was tremulous with 
real feeling? I wish the winds would keep 
their revels about me just now. There isn’t 
a breath of air stirring, and I ’m so hot that 
the grass is scorched this minute, I presume, 
under my parched form.” 

I can’t say I ’m what you would call cool, 
myself,” said Gifford, fanning himself with his 
hat, and contemplating some blisters forming 
on the inside of his hands. This canoe is no 
feather, let me tell you, nor was this track laid 
out for a race-course. But if we ’re going to 
put this trip through and make a success of it, 
we can’t afford to mind trifles. A few hard- 
ships don’t count, for explorers, you know. You 
must n’t be so easily disgusted. This is n’t go- 
ing to last forever. I think I see indications 
of clear, deep water ahead, even now.” 

Gifford was right. The rocks soon disap- 
peared from the channel, and an inviting stretch 


42 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


of clear, smooth water appeared ahead. Gifford 
returned the wheelbarrow, while Bert reloaded 
the canoe. Again they were afloat, the ease 
and swiftness of the canoe’s motion a delight- 
ful rest, fully recompensing them for all their 
labors. But this was too good to last. As they 
were paddling silently along, even Herbert too 
tired to talk for once in his life, a suspicious 
roaring greeted their ears above the murmur 
of the rippling stream and the plashing of the 
paddles. 

“It’s a mill-dam!” exclaimed Gifford. “That 
explains this deep, smooth water. Well, there ’s 
no help for it. We ’ll have to carry her around.” 

“Yours to command, captain I ” cried Bert, 
leaping out into the water and manfully seizing 
his end of the “ Black-eyed Susan,” helping lug 
and tug her through bush and brake and brier, 
and over stones and rocks, around the dam. 
The luggage was brought around, and once 
more they pushed hopefully on. 

But soon they came to an absolutely impassa- 
ble place. The Piscataquog, in fact, was true 
to itself as a genuine New England river, pic- 
turesque as any artist could wish, but ill adapted 


OFF AT LAST 


43 


for canoeing. On ahead of them the boys saw 
its bright waters roaring and boiling down a i 
row channel full of great bowlders that fretted 
the swift brown current into creamy foam as 
it dashed madly against them in its downhill 
course. Even Gifford’s courage faltered before 
the size of these bowlders. 

“ Hum ! ” said Gifford, staring blankly at the 
immovable bowlders. ** What ’s to be done 
now, I wonder? ” 

Perhaps we can get help at that shanty over 
in the edge of those woods,” suggested Herbert. 

The shanty, however, proved to be deserted 
and empty. But far off in the fields they saw 
some men haying. These men were at once 
interested in the boys’ troubles. In the quiet, 
uneventful life they lived, remote from the 
great world, the unexpected advent of our two 
canoeists was quite a startling episode. In- 
deed, they figured long afterward in the sim- 
ple annals of the country-side as “ them two 
boys from Boston that tried to row down the 
Piscataquog ; seemed to be likely kind o’ boys. 



too.” 


These men good-naturedly took hold and 


44 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


carried the canoe around the rocky passage 
into the smooth water below, refusing all pay 
for their services, and standing on the bank 
and watching the graceful “ Black-eyed Susan ” 
until she glided out of sight. 

Hardly had the boys drawn a long breath 
and congratulated themselves on the ease with 
which they had surmounted this difficulty, when 
the deepening water and a low roar announced 
another dam. 

^ I say. Gif,” said Herbert, “ I could make 
some awfully profane remarks about the Piscata- 
quog, if I let myself out.” 

You ’d best not,” said Gifford, laughing. 

But it is decidedly tough, I 'm free to admit. 
Just put me ashore, and I ’ll run down and see 
what this dam is like.” 

He soon returned, reporting : “ It ’s rather a 
low dam, with a considerable slant, and a good 
flow of water over it. I think we can let her 
slide down this time, and save the portage.” 

First unloading the canoe, they fastened one 
of Herbert’s ropes to each end. Then Herbert 
stood in the water to the middle, holding one 
rope, while Gifford ran along the bank with the 


OFF AT LAST. 


45 


other; and thus they managed to half pull, half 
guide the canoe safely over the dam. She 
shipped considerable water, so it was necessary 
to tip that out before they could reload and 
push on. 

The sun, which sets early among the moun- 
tains, was now just disappearing behind the 
range of hills that rose boldly up against the 
western sky. Cool shadows fell across the river, 
a dewy freshness replaced the torrid heat of 
the day, and a delicious evening breeze, breath- 
ing subtle wild fragrance of pine woods, of 
brake and fern and new-mown hay, blew over 
the boys’ bare heads and revived their droop- 
ing spirits. 

“ Let ’s paddle at night after this. Gif,” sug- 
gested Herbert, and lie off in the daytime.” 

I feel ready to lie off now,” said Gifford, 
the moment we come to any sort of a stop- 
ping-place for the night. You ’re not hungry, 
Bert, I know.” 

Hungry ! Oh, no. I passed that some 
hours ago. I ’m in the last stages of starvation. 
It ’s a pity we did n’t think to bring along some 
condensed beef-tea, so we could have taken a 


46 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


teaspoonful or so at a time, till we were suffi- 
ciently revived to be able to bear solid food. 
I second the motion to tie up for the night as 
soon as you please." 

The twilight deepened, and still •'the boys 
paddled on, coming to no house in the solitary 
region through which they were voyaging. 
Straining their eyes through the gathering 
gloom, they scanned either shore anxiously. 
At length they dimly descried the outline of a 
building of some sort on the left shore, though 
no lights gleamed from it. Landing and re- 
connoitring, they found it to be a deserted, 
half-ruined mill. 

“We may as well stop here for the night," 
said Gifford. “We might go farther and fare 
worse. At least, we shall have a roof over our 
heads." 

Herbert was too glad to stop anywhere, on 
any excuse, to be fastidious about his accom- 
modations. Tying the canoe to a white birch 
sapling which leaned out over the river, its roots 
securely anchored in the rocks among which 
they had crowded out a foothold, the boys un- 
loaded their luggage and entered the mill. 


OFF AT LAST 


47 


They found its lower story floorless, and 
open to wind and weather on all sides. Light- 
ing the dark-lantern, and feeling uncommonly 
like heroes of romance pursuing some wild 
adventure, they cautiously ascended the rickety 
staircase, and explored the upper story. This 
proved to be more promising, though its win- 
dows were entirely gone, and the plastering, 
once on the walls, now strewed the floor in 
chunks and heaps. They brought all their 
luggage up here, for greater safety. 

Shall I let the portcullis fall?” asked Her- 
bert. “ In other words, shall I kick the stair- 
case away? We can easily drop down in the 
morning.” 

“ No,” said Gifford, “ I don’t believe it is 
necessary. I hardly think we shall be molested 
in this lonely region. We seem to be the only 
human beings about. What do you say about 
cooking something for supper?” 

Herbert could only dimly see Gifford, as the 
dark-lantern’s one ray shone straight out the 
sashless window, against a pine-covered hillside, 
where no doubt its unnatural radiance disturbed 
the slumbers of the birds, but it only slightly 


48 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


illuminated the surrounding gloom. Though 
Herbert could not see Gifford’s face, he noticed 
that his voice sounded hollow. 

“No, sir!” said Herbert. “A cold bite’s 
good enough for me to-night, especially if I ’m 
expected to do the 'cooking. Have a cracker, 
Gif ? ‘ There ’s nothing like eating hay when 

you ’re faint,’ as the White King told Alice in 
‘ The Looking-Glass.’ ” 

Having stifled their hunger as best they 
might with crackers and cookies, they prepared 
to camp for the night. Gifford kicked the 
plaster out of one corner as well as he could 
in the semi-darkness, threw down the rubber 
blanket, to, as he said, “ mitigate the asperities ” 
of the plaster chunks that might still remain, 
and, rolling up in his woollen blanket, called 
out to Herbert, who was fumbling about among 
the luggage to make sure that his fishing-rod 
had not been lost, — 

“ Come, Bert, let up, and settle down. Come 
along to the 

*■ bower I have shaded for you ; 

Your bed shall be roses besprinkled with dew,* — 

besprinkled with plaster, any way.” 


OFF AT LAST. 


49 


Bert did not come at once. Finally, satisfied 
that the fishing-rod was there all right, he said : 

“ Down upon my pillow soft, 

I do lay my little head,” 

and tumbling head-first in the darkness, fell with 
all his weight on Gifford. 

“This may be fun for you, Bert, but it’s 
death to me,” groaned Gifford, giving Herbert 
so determined a push that he rolled off the 
blanket into a pile of plaster. “ I was almost 
asleep, and I thought the old mill had fallen 
down, and that I was buried in the ruins.” 

“ Ugh ! ” groaned Bert in reply, as he rolled 
back on the blanket “ It was ruins, sure 
enough, so far as I am concerned. Don’t kick. 
Gif, and I ’ll promise to lie as still as the dead 
man I am.” 

Soon, in spite of some thoughts of the far- 
away homes, some private wonder as to how 
their mothers would feel if they knew where 
their boys were that night, they were sound 
asleep, in the deep, sweet repose that follows 
bodily fatigue in the open air. All was still, 
save the rushing sound of the Piscataquog, the 
lonely peeping of frogs. When the moon rose, 
4 


50 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


and shone in at the open windows of the de- 
serted mill, her light fell on the two boys sleep- 
ing as peacefully as the Babes in the Wood. 

Herbert, who intended to keep a regular log 
of this remarkable voyage, entered in his jour- 
nal the next morning, — 

“ First day out. Francestown to old mill, 
three miles.” 

It should be said that Herbert’s distances 
were only approximate, he having no means of 
being perfectly accurate. 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG. 


CHAPTER IV. 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG. 


HE sun had to climb high up the eastern 



sky before it could peep over the moun- 
tains down into the valley where stood the old 
mill. It was shining brightly in the boys’ faces 
when they awoke from their heavy slumbers. 

Gifford groaned, yawned, stretched, and 
finally pulled himself slowly up, in sections, as 
it were. Herbert lay laughing at him as he 
limped feebly about. 

“You needn’t laugh,” said Gifford. “Try it 
yourself. I advise you to come to by degrees. 
I have twice the number of bones I had in my 
body yesterday, and I’m vividly conscious of 
every one of them.” 

“ I should say so,” said Herbert, as he too 
crawled up and out. “ If anything happens to 
me, old boy, my remains can be identified by 


52 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


the print, on my right side, of a large triangular 
lump of plaster. I ’m marked for life, I know.” 

It was a lovely summer morning, as bright 
and beautiful as could be imagined, although 
the promise was for a very hot day, later. 
But now all was dewy freshness, and bird- 
songs, and long, cool shadows. The boys 
plunged into the Piscataquog’s clear waters, and 
enjoyed a delightful swim, which refreshed and 
revived them wonderfully. As they moved 
about, their lameness wore off, and their spirits 
soon rose to the habitual high-water mark. 

“ The first thing,” said Gifford, “ is to break- 
fast ; and then we must be off. Can you make 
coffee, Bert?” 

“ Of course I can. There 's nothing to be 
done but put the coffee in and let it boil. Any 
one can do that. I ’ll build a fire and get ‘ 
breakfast, while you explore around for a cow, 
and load the luggage aboard.” 

Bert soon gathered dry sticks enough to 
make a blazing fire, upon which he put the 
coffee-pot, and then spread the devilled 
ham, crackers, etc., out on a convenient flat 
rock. 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG. 


S3 


When Gifford returned from a vain hunt for 
a cow, Herbert asked, — 

“You don’t happen to have a hen’s egg in 
your pocket, do you?” 

“ No ; what for? ” 

“ To settle the coffee. You know they gen- 
erally put something in to settle it. I ’ll drop 
in a handful of salt. I guess that will answer 
just as well. Explorers mustn’t be too fastid- 
ious. The coffee smells first-rate, and I guess 
it’s good. It’s been boiling like everything — 
Hallo, here ’s a go ! ” 

“ What is the matter now? ” asked Gifford. 

“ The nose is melted off the coffee-pot, and 
it ’s sprung a leak besides. Here, give us your 
cup, quick, before it all leaks away ! ” 

The boys sat on a mossy old log, making 
the best of their poor breakfast, as convivial 
as two genial pirates. Herbert kept press- 
ing tenderloin steak and broiled chops on 
Gifford, and begging him to take another hot 
roll or to try the omelet, all of which lent an 
imaginary flavor to dry crackers and devilled 
ham. 

“ We may as well leave the coffee-pot behind. 


54 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


It ’s no good now, and I don’t care very much 
for coffee, any way,” said Gifford. 

“ Nor I,” said Herbert, especially when I 
cook it myself. Every cloud has its silver lin- 
ing, however. There will be one less thing to 
carry. It will be an interesting relic for future 
explorers to discover here.” 

It will be strange if we don’t strike some 
farm-house to-day, where we can get a good 
dinner,” said Gifford. 

“ ‘ Hope on, hope ever,’ ” said Herbert. 
Crackers will sustain life, any way.” 

In short, the boys started off in cheerful 
spirits, disposed to make the best of every- 
thing. The dam below the old mill they — as 
Herbert entered in his journal — got over 
somehow,” and then they paddled hopefully 
off down-stream. 

“ It ’s sure to be easier to-day,” said Gifford, 
because the farther we go down-stream, the 
nearer the Merrimac we are, and the deeper 
the Piscataquog will naturally grow.” 

“ Of course. Truisms, mere truisms, old 
boy,” assented Herbert cheerfully. 

For a while these hopeful predictions were 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG. 


55 


realized. The water was smooth and clear, deep 
enough to permit the “ Black-eyed Susan ” to 
glide swiftly on. Now and then, as they in- 
vaded the solitary “ haunts of coot and hern,” 
up from reedy covert flew wild ducks and 
herons, screaming shrill notes of alarm at this 
unusual disturbance of their lonely nesting- 
places. 

“ If I only had my rifle ! ” exclaimed Gifford, 
all the hunter instinct aroused in his breast by 
these tantalizing glimpses of game. 

But the rifle had been reluctantly left behind, 
out of deference to the fears of his mother, who 
felt that two boys, a canoe, and a rifle formed 
a dangerous combination. Subsequent events 
of the trip satisfied Gifford that it was well the 
rifle had been left at home. 

Just as the boys were venturing thoroughly to 
enjoy themselves, they came to another dam. 

“ There certainly are some advantages in bar- 
barism,” exclaimed Gifford. “ Stanley, in the 
heart of Africa, whatever his sufferings, at least 
did not have to struggle with a series of mill- 
dams. We shall have to strip for this one, 
Bert.” 


56 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ Enough said,” responded Bert, cheerfully. 

They undressed, — a simple process, — and 
succeeded in getting the boat over, enjoying a 
fine shower-bath under the dam. And now such 
a hard road to travel as lay before these long- 
suffering, much-enduring canoeists ! They had 
demonstrated to their own entire satisfaction 
that the Piscataquog ought to be smoother and 
deeper to-day. It ought, perhaps; but it cer- 
tainly was not. On the contrary, this wayward 
river seemed resolved to-day to show its worst 
possibilities. The bed of the stream was full of 
bowlders, tumbled in promiscuously and lav- 
ishly, while the shallow water wound crookedly 
and meagrely through the labyrinth of rocks 
and stones. 

With bare feet and legs the boys waded 
slowly along, one at each end of the canoe, 
often stopping to pull rocks out of the way, 
dragging the canoe along, zigzagging it across 
the stream, wherever the bowlders afforded a 
passage, making but slow and painful progress. 
The mid-day sun beat down fiercely on their 
aching backs, and their bare feet slipped on 
the rocky bottom, getting many a hard knock 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG. 


57 


and scratch. Sometimes they tumbled over a 
rock ; sometimes, for variety, a rock rolled, and 
tumbled over on their feet 

If we should happen to stave in the canoe 
on one of these rocks, we should be in trouble,” 
said Gifford. 

Happy thought ! ” said Herbert. ** Let 's do 
it ! I tell you what, Gif, I begin to sympathize 
with that man who, when ridden out of town by 
his appreciative neighbors, remarked: *Boys, if 
it were n’t for the name of the thing, I 'd almost 
as soon walk ! ’ Canoeing sounds well, to talk 
about, but I must say I think we ’re a good deal 
like that other man who made a journey by 
canal-boat, working his passage by driving the 
horses.” 

After toiling awhile longer, Herbert said: 
“I've an idea! I put a pair of old slippers 
in my valise, thinking they might come handy. 
We can use those to protect our feet.” 

It now became necessary to unload the canoe. 
Gifford then walked along the bank, carrying 
the luggage ; while Herbert, in the slippers, 
which, as he said, “were a sort of salvation” 
to him, waded down the stream, dragging the 


58 


THEIR CANOE TRIP'. 


canoe along her intricate course with desperate 
energy. 

After a while they changed places. But 
Herbert soon found that, on the whole, it was 
easier and pleasanter dragging the canoe in the 
water with the slippers on, than plodding along 
without them through bush and briers and 
stones, in the broiling sun, with the weary load 
of baggage. 

“ Like an eagle caged I pine 

On the dull, unchanging shore ; 

Give me the flashing brine. 

The spray, and the tempest’s roar ! ” 

he sang, as sonorously as if he had been old 
Father Neptune himself. 

“ If that means you want to change places 
again, I ’m willing,” said Gifford. “ In fact, I ’ll 
do almost anything if you will only not howl. 
I suppose you call it singing.” 

Ominous clouds were now rolling darkly up 
the sky, and distant mutterings all around the 
horizon preluded a coming shower. The clouds 
shut out the sun’s remorseless glare; but the 
air was so sultry and breathless, that the heat 
seemed more oppressive than before. 





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t -i.-. . ■ 


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''O'* ** 


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rv . 

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f f i, -’ r ' ' ■ 

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cv 








m 


“Sitting down on 


a rock in the water . . 
without his dinner.” 


he flatly refused to go farther 
Page 59. 







DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG. 


59 


And still the rocks held out. It seemed as 
if they never would reach smooth water. No 
place or time had offered for that good dinner 
to which the boys had looked forward so hope- 
fully in the morning, and of which they pain- 
fully felt the need. It was now three o’clock. 
Herbert, whose courage had held out much 
better than Gifford had expected, now gave 
out. Sitting down on a rock in the water, the 
dirt on his face beautifully variegated by the 
tricklings of perspiration, his hat shoved des- 
perately back on his close-cropped head, his 
expression glum and gloomy in the extreme, he 
flatly refused to go farther without his dinner. 

Gifford, who looked and felt, to tell the truth, 
much like Herbert, but who was impatient at the 
way they had dragged their slow length along 
all day, and who also had the more persistent 
nature, remonstrated with him in vain. 

“ No, sir ! ” said Herbert. 

“ ‘ This rock shall fly 
From its firm base as soon as I,’ 

unless you consent, here and now, to abandon 
the ‘ Black-eyed Susan ’ to her fate, and strike 


6o 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


off across lots somewhere for dinner. ‘ I can 
no farther go ’ till after grub ! ” 

** Nonsense ! ” exclaimed Gifford. “ When 
we Ve made so little distance to-day, anyway, 
to waste time scouring the country around for 
dinner ! We ought to be pushing ahead. We 
have n’t even made New Boston yet.” 

So the argument waged back and forth, finally 
subsiding into a sullen silence. Suddenly Gif- 
ford broke it by bursting into a hearty laugh. 

What in the world are you laughing at ? ” 
growled Herbert. 

“You. It occurred to me, what if Bessie 
Temple could see you now ! She would hardly 
recognize the elegant Herbert Osborne, ‘ the 
glass of fashion and the mould of form,’ in the 
melancholy wreck I see before me, stranded in 
the bed of the Piscataquog ! ” 

Herbert laughed, — he could not help it ; and 
when once you’ve laughed, the backbone of 
despair is broken. 

“ Here, old boy, you say you ’re hungry ; 
have a doughnut,” said Gifford, extending the 
bag of these luxuries, its contents rather damp 
from the misadventures of the day. 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG, 


6r 


This reminds me/’ said Herbert, as he ate 
a soggy doughnut, “ of the White Queen’s 
saying to Alice, ‘You are thirsty — have a 
biscuit’ ” 

Herbert being sufficiently revived by this de- 
lightful refreshment to struggle on, the boys re- 
sumed their warfare with the Piscataquog, and 
toiled on, to have, at last, the rocks disappear, 
but only because they were concealed by the 
deep water set back above another dam. Yes, 
they had worked so hard, only to come to an- 
other dam. 

Just as they made this unwelcome discovery, 
the dark clouds broke in a deluge of rain. Has- 
tily throwing the rubber blanket over their lug- 
gage, to save it, if possible, from the thorough 
drenching they themselves were getting, they 
secured the “ Susan,” and looked about for 
shelter. 

At the dam was a grist-mill, where the boys 
thought they might lodge. Some distance 
below the mill stood a house, where they re- 
solved to reconnoitre, and see what could be 
done for meals. In response to their knock, 
a young woman opened the door, two small 


62 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


children clinging to her skirts, peering timidly 
around at the strangers. 

The boys had agreed on this formula to be 
used an such occasions : — 

We are canoeists. We are paddling down 
the river, stopping at farm-houses. We can pay 
our way.” This Gifford repeated in his most 
polished society manner, adding, We called 
to ask if we could sleep in the mill overnight. 
I presume it belongs to your husband.” 

“ Ye-es,” replied the woman, looking with 
evident distrust on these rather rough-looking 
young fellows standing before her, dripping in 
the rain. “ But he ’s away. I expect him home 
though, every minute,” she added hastily. 

“ How far is it to New Boston?” asked Gif- 
ford, seeing that no hospitable welcome awaited 
them here. 

Oh, it ’s only a little way down the river ! ” 
Finding themselves so near New Boston, the 
boys decided to walk down to the village and 
write home, they having promised to let their 
anxious friends hear from them at every op- 
portunity. As they walked on, they found 
themselves in a most picturesque region. Great 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG. 


63 


hills rose grandly on every side, up whose green 
sides the mist was now rolling. The black 
clouds had passed over, and lay darkly along 
the eastern horizon. As they entered the little 
village, the setting sun gleamed out, flooding 
the whole dripping earth with a golden radi- 
ance that converted each hanging raindrop, on 
bush and bough, into a flashing prism. 

The pretty village, with its white church, its 
neat houses peeping out from green foliage, 
nestled in the lovely valley, through which ran 
the Piscataquog, a beautiful stream, as even the 
boys were forced to admit. 

“ I can almost forgive the Piscataquog every- 
thing,” said Herbert, “ it is such a pretty 
stream, here, any way.” 

“ I never saw a lovelier spot than this,” said 
Gifford, with unwonted enthusiasm. 

Perhaps, unconsciously to the boys, part of 
New Boston’s charm for them lay in its name, 
reminding them, as it did, of home, and of that 
city dear to all true Bostonians. Having written 
and mailed their postal cards, they procured a 
modest supper, and then set out on their return 
to the mill, where they had left the Susan.” 


64 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Although the boys had been in the village 
only an hour, every one knew all about them, 
who they were, where from, where going, — the 
whole story, in short; and they found them- 
selves quite heroes. A man, with whom they 
had talked some at the Post-Office, overtook 
them as they were starting out on their muddy 
walk. 

“ If you ’re going my way, hop in, and I ’ll 
give you a lift,” he said heartily. 

The tired boys accepted this offer gladly. 
Further talk developed the welcome fact that 
this was the miller, and he not only cheerfully 
consented to let them sleep in the mill that 
night, but even brought them out some old 
comfortables from the house, which were the 
more acceptable, as the boys found that their 
blankets were very damp. 

“ ‘ So endeth the second lesson,’ ” said Her- 
bert, as they turned wearily in on the mill 
floor. 

“ Who would imagine,” said Gifford, “ that 
it is only two days since we started ? It seems 
like a month.” 

The boys soon fell sound asleep, to the lullaby 


DOWN THE PISCATAQUOG, 


65 


of the Piscataquog’s rumble and tumble over 
the dam, — a sound that often, mingling with 
their dreams, made them repeat in sleep the 
toils and misadventures of the day. Herbert’s 
entry in his journal, made by the uncertain 
light of the dark-lantern, was, — 

“ Second day. Old mill to grist-mill, three 
miles. Six miles from starting-point.” 


66 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


CHAPTER V. 


AN ADVENTURE. 



HE next morning was a lovely one after 


the shower, which had purified and fresh- 
ened the air, washed and brightened the whole 
landscape. Although the boys rose feeling 
rather lame and old from their unaccustomed 
toil, it was not in human nature, especially young 
human nature, to resist what Emerson calls ‘‘the 
fine influences of the morning,” of such a morn- 
ing as this, above all. Some generous cups of 
coffee brought out by their host the miller 
added to their good cheer. They had dis- 
covered, too, that there was a delightful, an 
unexpected canal which would take them easily 
around the dam. 

The miller’s small children, who had been 
won from coyness to firm friendship by the 
boys’ good-comradeship and fun, to say nothing 


AN ADVENTURE. 


67 


of a few pennies, stood on the bank watching 
them paddle off with quite as genuine awe and 
admiration as if they had been the real Kane 
and Livingstone, or even Christopher Columbus 
himself. They stood watching the canoe glide 
rapidly down- stream in the morning sunlight, r 
cutting the bright water swiftly, the paddles ^ 
wielded by the strong arms of the young canoe- 
ists rising and falling in a silent rhythm, the 
whole to the children a poem, a vision of 
romance. 

As the Black-eyed Susan ” disappeared be- 
hind the pines and white birches overhanging 
the great projecting rock at the bend of the 
river below, and vanished forever from the chil- 
dren's gaze, the little boy heaved a deep sigh. 

“ When I am a man, Polly,” he said, “ I shall 
have a boat just like that, and I will take you 
in it, and we will go way, way off, all over the 
world, — I don’t know where.” 

And little Polly clapped her hands and 
jumped up and down for glee at the mere 
thought of such happiness. 

Pleasantly as the day began, its experiences 
were destined to be chiefly a monotonous repe- 


68 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


tition of the toils and sufferings already under- 
gone. Soon after leaving the grist - mill they 
came to another dam. It looked decidedly 
discouraging, being very high, with no water 
flowing over. By the aid of their ropes, with a 
great effort of mechanical skill, they succeeded 
in lifting the canoe over and dropping her into 
the pool below, not, however, without tipping 
out most of their goods and chattels into the 
water. 

There was hardly any water below the dam, 
so much had been held back above, and they 
were forced to await its slow rising and pouring 
over. Then the water rose in the river, and the 
boys’ spirits with it. They sped on in fine style 
for a while, making a grand spurt under New 
Boston bridge, upon which they found a crowd 
of spectators standing, watching to see them 
come down the river and go under, — a crowd 
including not only all the small boys of the vil- 
lage, but many of the big ones as well. 

“ Ahem ! the proudest moment of my life ! ” 
said Gifford in a stage whisper, as they sped 
under the bridge amid the comments of the 
on-lookers. 


AN ADVENTURE. 


69 


Yes,” said Herbert. “ We are almost equal 
to Barnum’s Circus, as a Moral Show of Unpar- 
alleled Colossal Grandeur. We ought to get out 
posters, and placard the towns in advance down- 
stream, to let them know we are coming.” 

The forenoon wore rapidly away in the efforts 
and delays caused by the innumerable dams 
that diversified the amiable Piscataquog. At 
noon, they made a meagre luncheon from their 
much-diminished and damp store of provisions. 
The afternoon brought another long, dreary 
stretch of rocks and shallows. The old slippers 
were worn out. It would not do to ruin their 
only pairs of shoes ; yet some protection for 
their bare feet from the sharp rocks was abso- 
lutely necessary. What was to be done? 

Some little distance inland, Gifford saw a 
farm-house. 

“ Perhaps, Bert,” he suggested, looking doubt- 
fully at his friend, “ you might beg a pair of old 
boots or shoes over at that farm-house.” 

“ Come, now, I like that ! ” said Herbert. 
“ So I am the victim selected for sacrifice, am 
I? The blue blood of all the Osbornes fairly 
bubbles in my veins at the mere idea. How- 


70 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


ever, we do need a pair of shoes so tremen- 
dously that I ’ll pocket my pride, assume a little 
of your cheek, and go ahead.” 

Gifford soon saw Herbert returning, waving 
triumphantly a pair of old boots. 

I found the kindest, nicest old lady up there 
you ever saw,” said Herbert. “ She seemed 
quite surprised that I refused her offer of ‘ cold 
victuals.’ I accepted a drink of milk, though, 
and it was delicious, I tell you.” 

“ Ha, I would n’t object to a drink of milk, 
myself,” said Gifford. 

“ Virtue is not only its own reward,” said 
Herbert, “ but once in a while it gets outside 
appreciation, as in this case. If you had 
condescended to beg for the boots, you would 
have had the milk. Hereafter, carefully follow 
my example, and you ’ll be all right.” 

Herbert, during this speech, was pulling on 
the boots, by no means a perfect fit, their rough 
angles being only a degree less painful to his 
feet than the edges of the rocks. He toiled 
along with the canoe over and among the rocks, 
while Gifford tramped alongshore, bearing the 
luggage, barefoot, of course, as the frequent 


AN ADVENTURE. 


71 


exigencies of the “ Black-eyed Susan ’’ obliged 
both boys to be ready to leap into the river at 
any moment. 

They now found themselves in a peculiarly 
wild, beautiful, but lonely region. True, the 
stage-road to Goffstown ran near the river, but 
was evidently little frequented, and they saw 
neither vehicle nor traveller. How still it was ! 
How remote they felt from the far-away world ! 
The stillness and loneliness were pleasing to 
Gifford’s quiet, romantic nature; but Herbert 
soon felt it oppressive, and endeavored to cheer 
his flagging spirits, and beguile his labors, by 
singing. 

My heart ’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; 

My heart ’s in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer,” 

he shouted, and up through the recesses of the 
silent hills all about echoed faintly, “ Deer, 
deer, deer ! ” fading gradually away in an indis- 
tinct murmur. 

“ Boston Highlands, I presume,” said Giflbrd. 

“ Never you mind. My heart and I under- 
stand each other. The fact is. Gif, I know 
you ’re pining to wear these delightful boots. 


72 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


and there is nothing mean or selfish about me ; 
I ’m always ready to oblige a friend.” 

“ Well, I 'm ready for a change,” said Gifford. 

Scrambling down the bank, he found Herbert 
engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with the 
“ Black-eyed Susan,” that jaunty craft, with the 
wilfulness supposed to be inherent in her sex, 
seeming determined to impale herself on the 
sharp edge of a rock, toward which the strong 
current in the main channel bore her. The 
river bottom was broken and slippery, afford- 
ing the old boots but an uncertain footing. 
Herbert, slipping and struggling with the 
canoe, broke forth with Tennyson’s “Brook 
Song”: — 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance. 

Among my skimming swallows,” 

when out went his feet from under him, and 
prone he lay on his back in the Piscataquog, 
which seemed to laugh maliciously as it rippled 
along over its stones. 

Gifford hastened to help him up, and to- 
gether they rescued the “Susan” from her own 
undoing. 


AN ADVENTURE, 


73 


You ’d better be more careful, or you ’ll 
* gloom ’ more than you mean to,” said Gifford. 
“You’ll * go on forever’ in earnest.” 

“ I am a damper and a wiser man,” said 
Herbert, solemnly. 

Pulling himself up the steep bank, he broke 
off a stout stick. Upon this he suspended the 
valise and carpet-bag over his shoulder, carry- 
ing the blankets, etc., in a big roll under one 
arm. Gifford laughed. 

“ I’d give something to have Bessie Temple 
and the other Roxbury girls see you now. 
You look as if you had just landed from ^ the 
old country ! ’ ” 

“ Ditto, ditto, yourself! ” said Herbert. “ ^ A 
man ’s a man for a’ that, and a’ that.’ I ’m 
going in the road, Gif. It’s easier walking, 
and there ’s no danger of meeting any one along 
here.” 

“ All right ! ” said Gifford, as he bent his back 
to his task. 

Herbert’s clothes, as well as Gifford’s, already 
bore witness, in various rents and stains, to the 
vigor of their exploits. Marion’s box of thread 
and needles had been lost overboard at one 


74 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


of their first dams. Their feet and legs were 
bare, the dust of the road adhered to their wet 
clothes, and an old slouch hat, much the worse 
already for its adventures by fell and flood,” 
was set far back on Herbert’s head for greater 
coolness. Altogether his appearance was what 
he himself would have described as “ seedy.” 

A dense growth of bushes along the bank 
here concealed the road from the river. As 
Gifford plodded along the river-bed, suddenly 
he heard the unexpected rattle of wheels, and 
the next moment Herbert dashed through the 
bushes, flushed and laughing. 

“ What is it?” asked Gifford. 

“ I met the New Boston stage ! Came right 
around the turn upon me, before I had time to 
dodge ! Itwasfullof people, — summer boarders, 
I suppose ; I noticed a lot of big Saratoga trunks 
strapped on behind. There was such a pretty 
girl aboard, — an out-and-out beauty! She 
looked at me as if she thought me one of the 
banditti peculiar to this wild region, who might 
attack the stage-coach with my band, — give a 
signal, you know, and all my desperadoes leap 
out from behind the bushes, like Roderick Dhu. 


A AT ADVENTURE. 


75 


If you had only happened to come up out 
of the river just then, the effect would have 
been complete. I should have liked to see 
her when her horrified eyes fell on your grim 
visage.” 

“ Don ’t flatter yourself, Bert, that there ’s any 
such dash of wild romance in your looks. She 
thought, more probably, that you were about to 
beg for pennies, ready to call down a choice 
selection of Irish blessings or curses on her 
head, as the result should warrant.” 

Well,” said Herbert, candidly, “ I admit 
that had she seen you, she might reasonably 
have thought so. A light-complexioned, yellow- 
haired youth gone to seed looks simply dirty 
and disreputable. But about your fine, dark, 
dashing fellows like me, — ahem ! — there ’s al- 
ways an air of having seen better days, a spice 
of romance, something fascinating to the last ! ” 

“ Cherish that illusion while you can,” said 
Gifford, laughing. But now have done with 
your nonsense; we must be pushing on. 
The afternoon ’s wearing away, and the sky is 
clouding over. We must try to find some good 
stopping-place for the night.” 


76 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ So he took up the burden of life again, 

Only saying, ‘ It might have been ! ’ ” 

said Herbert, in accents of deep pathos, as he 
shouldered his budgets and tramped on, listen- 
ing, like w^neas on the house-top, “with erected 
ears,” for the sound of wheels. 

No more vehicles came along the unfre- 
quented road that night, however. The sky 
grew darker, the air damper, and the robins 
sang as is their wont just before a rain-storm. 
The great hills among which the Piscataquog 
wound, loomed up around them, gray and som- 
bre. The stillness, the loneliness, grew more 
intense. 

Herbert’s mercurial spirits, which often soared 
so high, and sometimes went equally low, now 
began to sink. He was tired, hungry, depressed, 
half ready to vote the much-longed-for canoe 
trip “the biggest sell on record.” Ras^erry- 
bushes, laden with ripe fruit, grew all along the 
roadside. Herbert dallied along, appeasing his 
hunger with berries. Presently a shout came 
from down-stream, — 

“ Bert ! Bert ! Where are you ? ” 

“ Coming ! I say. Gif, let ’s camp here to- 


AJV ADVENTURE. 


77 


night. It ’s dry and sandy, — a good place to 
sleep.” 

“ Come along,” was the only answer from the 
river-bed. 

Herbert’s progress was slow, however, his 
sluggish pace matching his flagging zeal, while 
the temptations of the berry-bushes were too 
great to be resisted. 

Finally Gifford, who in his fatigue felt the 
loneliness and isolation surrounding them as 
sensibly as Herbert, stopped, and sat down on a 
stone in the river, until Herbert should appear. 

Herbert came laggingly into view, much 
stained about the mouth and finger-tips with 
the life-blood of countless raspberries. 

“ I tell you what, Bert,” said Giflbrd, with 
some warmth, “ it ’s rather lonely plodding 
along here all by myself.” 

“It is too bad. Gif, I admit,” said Herbert, 
a little conscience-smitten. “ I ’ll keep along 
beside you, after this. It ’s mighty lonely along 
here, isn’t it?” he added, after plodding on a 
few moments in silence. 

“ It is, indeed.” 

“ Seems to me. Gif, this so-called canoe trip 


78 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


of ours is n’t exactly what you ’d call an out- 
and-out success. For a straight, hand-to-hand, 
never-say-die wrestle with rocks, mill-dams, and 
starvation, it’s immense.” 

You don’t want to back out, do you?” 

“ No, sir-ee ! 

‘ The king of France, with twenty thousand men, 

Marched up the hill and then marched down again ; ^ 

but you and I, Gif, are not that sort of fellow. 
I propose to fight it out on this line, like General 
Grant, if it takes all summer.” 

“ Good for you, Bert ! ” said Gifford, delighted 
that Herbert’s feelings agreed with his own. 
“We’ll go on, then, to the bitter end, ‘sink or 
swim, live or die, survive or perish.’ I agree 
with you that more water and less rocks would 
improve this sort of overland passage we ’re 
making down the bed of the Piscataquog.” 

“ I ’ve had about enough of it for one day, I 
know that ! ” said Bert. “ I should think it was 
about time to stop for the night.” 

“ I know it is,” said Gifford. “ I ’ve kept 
on, thinking we must surely come to a house 
soon. It’s growing dark. We must turn in 
somewhere.” 


AJV ADVENTURE. 


79 


At this point, a man suddenly stepped out 
from the bushes close by them. The boys 
were startled, both at the suddenness of his ap- 
pearance when they thought themselves so far 
from all human kind, and by the uninviting as- 
pect of the man himself; he being a rough, 
ugly-looking fellow, evidently much the worse 
for liquor. 

Across the road, so hidden in thick under- 
brush that they had not noticed it in the gather- 
ing darkness, they now perceived a dilapidated 
shanty. To add to the boys’ dismay, another 
man now joined the first, even more drunken, 
filthy, and evil-looking than the first. 

The boys having, as Gifford afterwards said, 
unlimited faith in the virtue of all natives of New 
Hampshire, put a brave face on, and asked : 

Can we get lodging anywhere about here 
for the night?” 

“ Oh, ya-as, we ’ll keep ye. Kin keep ye 
well’s not. We live right over here.” 

The boys did not eagerly accept this cordial 
invitation. 

“Isn’t there any other house near here?” 
they asked. 


So 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“No. The Highest house is two miles or 
more below here.” 

The boys hardly knew what to do. To go 
on two miles farther was impossible. It was 
already dusk, and a cloudy night, threatening 
storm. The Piscataquog was not a stream 
they could paddle on in the dark. They con- 
sulted together, uncertain what to do in this 
lonely, rather dubious situation. 

“We kin fix ye up a sort o’ bed somewheres,” 
said the first man, who seemed unduly anxious 
that the boys should land. 

“ Can we get you to-morrow morning to take 
our canoe down the road a ways in a wagon 
until we come to deep water?” asked Gifford. 
“We’ve been dragging it along through shal- 
low water and rocks all day, and we are nearly 
tired out.” 

“We will pay you well,” added Herbert, 
rashly. 

The two men exchanged glances of low 
cunning. 

“ Oh, ya-as,” said the second comer, in thick 
accents ; “ we ’ll take ye along, if we kin git 
our wagin fixed. Some rascal ’s broke our 


AN ADVENTURE. 


8l 


wagin, him ! If I ketch the feller that 

done it, I ’ll break every bone in his body, 

him!” And he muttered on in senseless, 

drunken rage, glaring at the boys, evidently dis- 
posed to charge them with breaking the wagon. 

The first man continued urgent that they 
should come ashore. 

“ Come up here and jest look at our wagin,” 
he said, and see if it ’ll answer your turn if 
we kin fix it. It ’s right up here in the bushes. 
I ’ll keep ye all night. Come along ! ” 

He whispered to his comrade, and they 
retired into the bushes, as if for consultation, to 
arrange their plans. 

The boys had now grown very suspicious 
of their new friends. They held a hurried 
council. 

** I don’t like their looks,” said Gifford, ** and 
they are altogether too anxious to take us in. 
We are alone, in their power. I wonder what 
we ’d better do.” 

“ I think,” said Herbert, “ our best plan is to 
hide our money somewhere, and get out of the 
way before they come back.” 

There was little time for consideration. Gif- 
6 


82 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


ford felt that Herbert’s suggestion was a wise 
one, under all the circumstances. 

Hurriedly digging a hole in the sand of the 
river-bank, they buried their money, rolling a 
peculiarly marked stone over it to define the 
spot, left the canoe stuck fast among the rocks, 
and fled. Seizing their luggage, they splashed 
through the river, scrambled up the opposite 
bank, and into the bushes out of sight, ere their 
would-be captors reappeared. 

On dashed the boys, up across a steep hill- 
side pasture, constantly hearing close at their 
heels imaginary pursuers in their own echoing 
footsteps. The cattle in this remote mountain 
pasture, startled from their quiet grazing by this 
sudden invasion, threw heads and tails up, and 
galloped wildly away as fast as did the boys, 
but in an opposite direction. As Herbert 
panted on, he wondered if there was not a 
bull among them, who might perhaps take a 
fancy to join in the chase. But the cattle, con- 
sidering themselves pursued rather than pur- 
suers, kept on to remote heights beyond, where 
they stood with erect heads and startled eyes, 
like hunted deer watching the enemy from afar. 


AJV ADVENTURE. 


83 


The boys struck across the hillside to some 
woods, which offered a favorable place for con- 
cealment. Reaching the woods, they stopped 
to listen. The only sounds were the sighing of 
the night-wind through the pines and the dash- 
ing of the river far below. 

“ I think we are safe here,” said Gifford. 
“ We can easily outrun them if they don’t come 
upon us unawares.” 

We ’d best cut some big sticks,” said Her- 
bert, ** and be prepared to defend ourselves in 
case of attack. They are hard-looking char- 
acters, and a good deal bigger and stronger 
than we, but so besotted with liquor we could 
probably worst them if we had a fair chance to 
start with.” 

Some good-sized cudgels were cut, and laid 
close at hand. 

“ Now, let us see if there is still anything to 
eat in that bag,” said Gifford, “ and then we 
may as well turn in for the night.” 

After making what Herbert truthfully de- 
scribed in his journal as a frugal meal ” of 
water-soaked crackers and berries, they spread 
the invaluable rubber blanket among the ferns 


84 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


in the edge of the pine wood, and lay down 
upon it, with the two woollen blankets over 
them, and their valises for pillows. But the 
night-air up here on the mountain-side was cold, 
penetratingly cold, and both boys were sleep- 
less in their unusual surroundings. As they 
revolved restlessly, first Gifford had all the 
blankets, then Herbert. 

“Look here, Bert,” said Gifford, finally, “this 
arrangement isn’t going to work. We shall 
be frozen before morning. You roll yourself 
up in your blanket, and I ’ll take mine and do 
likewise. Now, good-night, and pleasant dreams 
to you, old fellow.” 

“ The same to you,” said Herbert. “ I wish 
the folks at home could peep in on us just now. 
What would Aunt Senie say?” 

Herbert was now in fine spirits, elated by a 
sense of the novelty, romance, and adventure 
of their situation. It was long before either 
he or Gifford fell asleep. Their ears were 
strained to catch every noise. Far down on 
the road below them they heard the faint sound 
of a voice calling, once or twice. Then a 
wagon seemed to drive a little way along the 


AJV ADVENTURE. 


85 


road, turn, and come back again. Their ex- 
cited fancies heard their pursuers in these 
sounds, as well as in every twig that snapped 
under the light tread of fox or rabbit prowling 
through the wood on harmless midnight errands 
of its own. 

The night was dark and starless, the leaves 
rustled, the wind sighed mournfully through 
the pine branches like the distant moan of 
ocean surf. Now and then some bird, rocked 
too violently perhaps in its swaying nest, twit- 
tered a sleepy note or two, and then subsided. 
The damp night-air was full of wild, pungent 
odors of pine needles, sweet-fern, pennyroyal, 
dry, sweet, mountain herbage. And still the 
boys rolled and tossed, wide awake, but saying 
nothing to each other. 

Finally Herbert asked, cautiously, — 

^‘Are you asleep. Gif?” 

“ Not much ! ” replied Gifford. “ Do you 
suppose I prance about in this way when I ’m 
asleep? ” 

“ I did n’t know but you might be fighting 
those rascals in your dreams,” said Herbert. 

I don’t believe I shall ever go to sleep. 


86 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Every time I close my eyes I see rocks and 
water.” 

“ And raspberries?” suggested Gifford. 

‘‘Well, — yes, now and then a berry,” ad- 
mitted Herbert, candidly. 

But gradually, as the boys grew calmer, and 
their hearts beat less rapidly, they yielded to 
their great fatigue and the soothing influences 
of their surroundings. Deep sleep fell upon 
them, and they slumbered as sweetly on the 
bosom of the earth as two tired children in their 
mother’s arms. Herbert’s record for this third 
day was : — 

“ Grist-mill to villains’ shanty. 

Ten miles from starting-point.” 


four miles. 


A DAMPER. 


87 


CHAPTER VI. 

A DAMPER. 

H erbert awoke about four o*clock the 
next morning, the lap of Mother Earth 
not proving so conducive to prolonged slumber 
as a spring mattress. 

‘‘ What a racket the birds are making ! ” he 
thought, as he lay still, rolled up in his blanket, 
too lazy to stir as yet. Must be a pleasant 
morning.” 

But what was that suspicious patter, patter, 
on the leaves overhead; and was not that a 
drop of water that fell on the protruding tip of 
his nose? Yes, it actually was raining, raining 
hard and fast, though only an occasional drop 
dripped through the thick canopy of leaves 
above them. 

“ This is jolly ! ” thought Herbert. He 
nudged Gifford, saying,— 


88 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Come, Mark Tapley, here 's a chance for 
you to rise to the occasion and be jolly. It ’s 
raining hard. A jovial situation, take it all 
around, is n’t it ? ” 

“ Well, you did n’t expect the sun was going 
to shine straight on through the trip, did you? ” 
asked Gifford, his native obstinacy coming to 
the rescue, and helping him to put the best face 
possible on an unpleasant situation. “ ‘ Variety ’s 
the spice of life,’ you know.” 

“ If those men found our money last night, 
or stole the ^ Susan,’ we shall be in a pretty fix. 
What are you going to do in that case?” 

Like Lincoln, I don’t propose to cross a 
bridge until I come to it. If we find everything 
all right, this is my plan for to-day. You know 
they told us at the mill that there was a farmer 
along here somewhere named Harrison, who 
would probably take us in. I thought we 
should reach his house last night. We will 
push on there, and stay until it stops raining. 
But the first thing to be done is to get some 
breakast.” 

The boys tried to start a fire under the lee 
of the pine wood, but could not; so they were 


A DAMPER. 


89 


fain to content themselves with crackers and 
berries. 

‘‘ What a hollow mockery to call this break- 
fast ! ” exclaimed Bert, as the loathed cracker 
stuck in his throat. 

What would you give now for a genuine 
home breakfast,” asked Gifford, tantalizingly ; 
** say a juicy tenderloin, baked potatoes, hot bis- 
cuit, and a cup of our mother’s coffee? Straw- 
berry shortcake would n’t be bad, either.” 

“ Gifford,” exclaimed Herbert, don’t trifle 
with a desperate man ! I might develop can- 
nibal propensities. A man is capable of any 
frenzy after a steady diet of crackers for a 
week.” 

The boys rolled up their luggage in the rubber 
blanket for protection, and emerged from the 
shelter of the woods into the pouring rain. 

“ Either the birds are egregious humbugs, 
or they really enjoy this kind of weather,” said 
Gifford. 

The woods, trees, and bushes all around ech- 
oed with rippling, joyous bird-songs. The wet 
air was deliciously redolent of wild perfumes 
drawn out by the rain, the fragrance of wet 


90 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


bark and dripping leaves, of aromatic pasture 
herbs and grasses. The wet morning had a 
beauty all its own. But the boys, lame, tired, 
hungry, and shelterless, uncertain about the fate 
of their money and canoe, were in no mood to 
be enthusiastic, as they plodded downhill in the 
rain. 

Far down below them wound the Piscataquog 
among its green hills, which from the boys’ 
vantage-point were seen to rise picturesquely 
all about it, range upon range, though their 
summits were hid this morning by low-lying 
mist. 

As they went on, down the mountain-gorges 
swept white sheets of rain, driving more furi- 
ously against them, until soon they were thor- 
oughly wet, literally to the skin. 

“ ‘Oh, the gentle, gentle summer rain ! ’ ” quoted 
Herbert, the rain dripping from the drooping 
rim of his slouched hat, and trickling over his 
face and down his neck. 

“ It looks and acts like serious business,” said 
Gifford. “ No joking about this ; no let-up to- 
day, if I ’m any prophet. But keep up your 
spirits, old fellow! We shall strike food and 


A DAMPER. 


91 


shelter soon, I’m sure; and when we do, 
we will not desert them till the prospect 
brightens.” 

**Oh, I’m jolly, immensely jolly,” said Her- 
bert, grimly. I never was so jolly in my life 
before.” 

They struck the river below the place where 
their money was buried. Wading the stream, 
they advanced cautiously up its shore, under the 
shelter of the bushes. No signs of the enemy 
appeared. Reaching the stone, they dug for 
their money and found it all right, perfectly 
dry in its sandy bed. The Black-eyed Susan,’* 
too, lay safe and sound among the rocks, ex- 
actly as they had left her. 

Their spirits revived at finding their worst 
fears unrealized. 

“ We wronged our friends last night,” said 
Gifford. ‘‘They were not so bad as we fancied.” 

“ They were bad enough for anything,” said 
Herbert, “ only they were too drunk to carry 
out their intentions. Do you know. Gif, I feel 
uncommonly like the good and great Captain 
Kidd, ‘ as he sailed, as he sailed,’ digging here 
for hidden treasure on a sandy beach. And 


92 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


last night, when we were hiding it, I could n’t 
help thinking of, — 

*• They buried him darkly, at dead of night, 

The sods with their bayonets turning,’ 

only it didn’t seem just the time to quote 
poetry.” 

“ So you refrained from your refrain,” said 
Gifford, in the best of spirits. “Well, we are 
all right now. ‘ Put but money in thy purse,’ as 
the wicked lago advised, and you can face the 
world boldly. We ’ll leave the canoe where she 
is for the present, and push on for Harrisons’.” 

After walking about a mile down-stream in 
the rain, carrying their baggage, at last a com- 
fortable farm-house greeted their anxious eyes. 
The boys felt that everything depended on their 
reception here. If they were refused shelter, 
their outlook was gloomy indeed, as the rain 
poured harder than ever, and no other house 
seemed near. 

Approaching the barn, they found a young 
man milking, it being yet early morning, even 
for farmers. After a brief history of their ad- 
ventures, they anxiously inquired if they would 
be allowed to sleep in the barn that night. 


A DAMPER, 


93 


** Why, of course,” said young Harrison, heart- 
ily. “Sleep here and welcome. And come 
right along into the house now. Breakfast is 
just ready, and the folks ’ll be glad to have you 
sit right down with us.” 

This was an invitation not to be refused. 
Changing their wet garments for some of the 
dryer ones in their valises, they were ready to 
follow their new friend and his milk-pails to- 
ward the kitchen. Behind his back, as they 
walked along, Bert contrived to nudge Gifford 
joyfully, and whisper, — 

“ Be careful and not eat too much, Gif, this 
first meal. Might scare ’em, you know.” 

“ If your prowess does n’t alarm them, mine 
certainly will not,” replied Gifford, laughing. 

Luckily there was a bountiful breakfast pre- 
pared, of ham and eggs, and such delicious 
coffee and bread and butter as it seemed to the 
half-starved boys they had never before tasted. 
Their warm and evidently most sincere praises 
of her cooking quite won old Mrs. Harrison’s 
heart ; and after breakfast, as the boys sat 
around the kitchen stove, drying their things, 
the internal satisfaction of a good breakfast 


94 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


and the delightful sense of warmth and comfort 
after their privations, made them so jolly, so 
full of jokes and fun, that both Mrs. Harri- 
son and her daughter were quite charmed with 
them. 

I declare,’" said the old lady to her daugh- 
ter after the boys had gone to the barn, ‘‘ I 
don’t know when I ’ve laughed so much. My 
sides fairly ache. Ain’t they full of it, though? 
They seem to be real nice, gentlemanly young 
fellows, — two as nice boys as I ever set eyes 
on. I’ll warrant their mothers are worryin’ 
about ’em every blessed minute. I believe, 
Amanda, I ’ll make some of my currant-pies for 
dinner. I should n’t wonder if the boys would 
enjoy them.” 

The boys had not been at the barn long 
with the Harrisons, when who should appear 
but the milder of the two vagabonds they had 
encountered the previous evening. He came, 
jug in hand, to get some hard cider, — a bever- 
age of which he had evidenly already drunk too 
much. He seemed not over pleased to meet 
the boys again, and muttered something threat- 
eningly about the smashed wagon as he shambled 


A DAMPER. 


95 


off with his empty jug, which the Harrisons had 
refused to fill. 

It seemed that the more sinister - looking 
fellow had, about a year ago, in a fit of drunken 
rage, stabbed this one, and fled the country. 
Now he had returned to visit his friend, and 
they were again boon companions. When the 
boys related their experience with this promis- 
ing pair, young Harrison said ; — 

They are a very hard lot, and it’s lucky you 
kept away from them. The selectmen ought to 
’tend to ’em, unless they succeed in killing each 
other off soon. It would be a good riddance 
to the community if they did.” 

The rain pounded hard on the gray roof of 
the old barn, and the boys loafed about there all 
the forenoon, talking with the Harrisons, and 
enjoying an agreeable sense of well-earned rest 
and leisure. The summons to dinner found 
them promptly ready, and their keen apprecia- 
tion of all Mrs. Harrison’s good things, especially 
the pies, was most satisfactory to that good 
lady. 

In the afternoon the rain held up, and the 
boys improved the chance to go up the river 


96 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


and bring the Black-Eyed Susan down near 
the Harrisons’. Soon after supper they found 
themselves in mood for bed and sleep. Climb- 
ing some pegs in a beam to the top of the big 
hay-mow in the barn, they lay down on the soft, 
fragrant new hay, and covered themselves with 
their blankets, which Mrs. Harrison had care- 
fully dried. 

After their repose on mill floors and the cold, 
cold ground, sinking down into this soft couch 
seemed the height of luxury. 

Civilization is a sham,” said Giflbrd. “ Only 
think how wretched some people make them- 
selves because they want this or can’t have 
that fancied necessity ! When you come down 
to the actual necessities of life, they ’re mighty 
few. Now, what would you have more luxu- 
rious and comfortable than this?” 

“Nothing,” murmured Herbert, drowsily, — 
“ only peace to enjoy it in. I ’m half asleep 
now. * Let us have peace.’ ” 

The raindrops were again pattering briskly 
on the roof close over their heads, — a drowsy 
music that soon soothed the boys into the 
deepest, sweetest sleep. And although Her- 


A DAMPER. 


97 


bert had been obliged to enter in his journal, 
“ Shanty to Mr. Harrison’s, one mile ; from 
starting-point, eleven miles,” still both boys 
were agreed that it had been a most satisfac- 
tory day. 


98 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


CHAPTER VII. 

ON, DOWN, AND IN. 

T he next morning, Gifford was awakened 
by a bright ray ' of sunlight, which, 
streaming through a heart-shaped hole in the 
end of the barn, shone full in his face. 

“ Hallo, Bert ! Wake up ! Wake up ! ” he 
cried, shaking Herbert vigorously. “ It ’s awful 
late, I 'm afraid.” 

Herbert came to life slowly at first, but, once 
thoroughly aroused, and made sensible of his 
whereabouts, was wide awake and ready for 
business. 

They slid down the mow to the barn floor. 
The big doors facing eastward stood wide open, 
and the sun streamed broadly in, its long bright 
rays full of dancing motes and golden dust from 
the hay. An old rooster, the patriarchal head 
of a large flock of industrious hens, was strutting 


ON, DOWN, AND IN 


99 


about the barnyard, now calling his meek tribe to 
work, now mounting a post and sounding shrill 
clarion notes of defiance to whomsoever it might 
concern. The air was sweet and fresh. It was 
a perfect summer morning, and all the world 
was in a bustle of active happiness, ready, like 
the boys, to begin life afresh after the storm. 

The boys ran a race to the house, wherein 
Gifford’s longer legs made him victor “ by one 
length ” only, as Herbert said. Finding the 
family already seated at breakfast, they made 
hasty toilets at the tin basin standing on the 
ledge by the mossy old trough at the back 
door, into which gurgled from a pipe the clear 
waters of a mountain spring, brought down from 
its far-away hillside to serve household uses. 
Wiping themselves in most democratic fashion 
on the long roller towel behind the kitchen 
door, they joined the family at the breakfast- 
table, looking so rosy and fresh and boyish 
that they won Mrs. Harrison’s heart all over 
again, and she pressed delicious hot griddle- 
cakes and maple syrup upon them, until even 
Herbert was obliged to own that there was a 
limit to human capacity. 


100 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


In vain, after breakfast, did they try to pay 
their kind host and hostess. 

“ We don’t want a cent,” said Mr. Harrison. 

We’ve enjoyed your visit first-rate, and you’re 
welcome to all you ’ve had.” 

“ You must come and see us again, some 
time,” said Mrs. Harrison; “and if it ain’t too 
much trouble, I wish you ’d just drop us 
a line after you get home, and let us know 
how you come out. And here ’s a bag of my 
doughnuts, and some cheese. I ’m afraid this 
frying of doughnuts ain’t quite so good as 
usual; but perhaps they’ll come in handy 
somewhere.” 

The boys were quite sure they would, and 
thanked Mrs. Harrison many times over for all 
her kindness. And so, with the most cordial 
expressions of good-will on both sides, and 
promises on the boys’ part to come again 
some time, hearty good-byes were exchanged, 
and the boys set forth again on their 
adventures. 

“ I hope there won’t nothin’ happen to ’em,” 
said Mrs. Harrison, as she stood, shading her eyes 
with one hand from the sun, and watched the 


ON, DOWN, AND IN 


lOI 


boys down the river until out of sight. “ They’re 
as nice, friendly boys as I ever set eyes on.” 

The boys did not forget to write to Mrs. 
Harrison after they reached home; and the 
next winter, life in the lonely farm-house was 
often brightened by the arrival of copies of 
“ Life,” “ Puck,” “ Harper’s Weekly,” etc., sent 
by the boys. 

It was a fresh, delightful morning, and the 
boys felt full of “ go,” after the refreshing rest 
and “square meals” enjoyed at the Harrisons’. 
The rain had swollen the river perceptibly, al- 
though at first the old boots had now and then to 
come into play to aid the “ Black-eyed Susan’s ” 
progress. But the boys worked with a good 
will which made all obstacles seem small. The 
scenery about them grew wilder and more pic- 
turesque. The Piscataquog’s sparkling waters, 
fretted into thousands of miniature cascades by 
its rocky bed, wound among grand hills, or rather 
mountains, looming up bright and near in the 
pure air this morning. The sky was a deep, 
cloudless blue, the air full of ozone. Gradually 
the river grew deeper. Then, as Bert entered 
in his journal, “ began some glorious fun.” 


102 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


The paddles flew in and out, and away shot 
the “ Black-eyed Susan,” as light as a feather, 
cutting swiftly over the water, the long wake of 
ripples she left behind breaking up the pictured 
sky and mountain and overhanging trees mir- 
rored in the clear Piscataquog. So delightful, 
so like flying, was their motion, that Bert in his 
exhilaration broke out into song, and made the 
hills resound with : — 

“ A wet sheet and a flowing sea — 

A wind that follows fast. 

And fills the white and rustling sail. 

And bends the gallant mast, — 

And bends the gallant mast, my boys ; 

While, like the eagle free. 

Away the good ship flies, and leaves 
Old England on the lee.” 

“ I say, Bert,” interrupted Gifford, “ your doll 
is n’t stuffed with sawdust now, is it? ” 

“ Not so much as it was. This is something 
like it. Is n’t it simply great? ” And he trolled 
another lusty stave : — 

“ ‘ Oh for a soft and gentle wind ! ’ 

I heard a fair one cry ; 

But give to me the snoring breeze, 

And white waves heaving high, — 


ON, DOWN, AND IN 


103 


And white waves heaving high, my boys, 

The good ship tight and free ; 

The world of waters is our home, 

And merry men are we.” 

“ I would n’t object to having the fair ones of 
Roxbury see us now; would you, Gif ? ” 

“ Not a bit,” responded Gifford, as he made 
his paddle fly. 

The river was diversified to-day by number- 
less riffles, the water deep enough to enable 
the boys to shoot them. As they guided the 
slender canoe skilfully through the roaring, 
tumbling water, there was just sufficient sense 
of danger to be agreeably exciting. At noon 
they reached West Goffstown bridge, where 
they found a high dam, but fortunately also 
some men at work near by, who kindly took 
hold and helped carry the “ Susan ” around it. 

Their brisk exercise in the fresh morning air 
had sharpened the boys’ appetites, and they 
were not long in discovering a favorable place 
for lunching, by the side of a cool spring that 
gushed from the hillside near by, its course 
down into the river marked by a strip of brighter 
verdure where its waters trickled, unseen, through 


104 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


grass and ferns. The boys sat in the green shade 
of the trees overhanging this spring, and found 
Mrs. Harrison’s doughnuts and cheese “ a lunch- 
eon fit for a king,” as Herbert pronounced it. 

“ Yes,” assented Gifford, especially if the 
king had been paddling a canoe and shooting 
rapids all the morning.” 

What unearthly name did those men call 
these mountains?” asked Herbert, looking up 
to the high mountains looming up conspicu- 
ously near them. 

“ The Uncanoonucs. It ’s an Indian name. 
All this region was a favorite haunt of the red 
men of the forest. Our canoe is n’t the first 
that has glided down the ‘ Sparkling Water,’ for 
that is what the Indian name ‘ Piscataquog ’ 
means. Mother and I were looking over Whit- 
tier’s Poems, after we had decided on this trip, 
and we found them full of allusions to the old 
Indian legends connected with this region, and 
the Merrimac, especially. Here ’s a bit bringing 
in these very mountains, — 

< Green-tufted, oak-shaded, by Amoskeag’s fall 
Thy twin Uncanoonucs rose stately and tall. 

Thy Nashua meadows lay green and unshorn, 

And the hills of Pentucket were tasselled with corn.’ ” 


ON, DOWN, AND IN 


105 


There ’s a fine swing to that,” said Herbert, 
lying on the hillside, complacently munching a 
doughnut. “It’s almost as good as I could 
write myself.” 

Luncheon over, the boys were soon afloat 
again, and before long came to some rapids that 
looked really dangerous. An ugly rock poked 
its nose out of the water at the end of the rapid. 

“ Are we off ? ” asked Herbert, looking ex- 
citedly at Gifford. 

“Why not?” answered Gifford,. with a reso- 
lute glint in his blue eyes. 

In silence, with faster-beating hearts, the boys 
shot into the foaming waters of the turbulent 
rapids. The canoe tipped and dipped, now 
this way, now that, and just grazed the rock, 
but strongly and skilfully guided, shot out safely 
at last into the clear water below. 

Herbert stuck his paddle over his shoulder, 
Gifford seized it, and the boys gave a wild yell 
of triumph that must have reminded the Unca- 
noonucs of good old Indian times. 

“ Nothing like pluck, is there, old boy? ” said 
Herbert. “ I did n’t think we should make it 
that time.” • 


io6 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“There’s no use stopping for trifles,” said 
^Gifford. 

The next obstruction interrupting the smooth- 
ness of their voyage was a high dam, built in a 
rocky locality, — a dam which they would have 
hesitated to attack in the beginning of their 
trip. But now, emboldened by success, they 
undressed, unloaded the “ Susan,” and managed 
to lower her over the dam, and slide her gradu- 
ally down a smooth, broad rock into the river, 
which was roaring along here at a fearful rate. 
The boys had come to feel quite at home with 
and indeed in the Piscataquog. But intimate as 
they considered themselves with this sparkling 
river, they were destined to what may well be 
called a deeper acquaintance ere this day was 
over. 

They now shot rapidly along down-stream, 
and were looking forward to the time when they 
should glide smoothly along the deep waters of 
the Merrimac, and be able, as Herbert said, to 
“ throw the old boots overboard to the mer- 
maids.” The canoe, being stanchly built, had 
held out wonderfully so far on her peril-fraught 
voyage ; but in grazing the rock, it had sprung 


ON, DOWN, AND IN, 


107 


a small leak, and the boys were obliged to 
stop occasionally and tip out water, which not 
only delayed them, but gave them some anxiety 
about the canoe ’s holding out. 

Herbert had grown quite reckless with their 
rapid motion and successful running of rapids, 
and dashed ahead, regardless of Gifford’s re- 
monstrances that there was still need of caution. 
As a natural consequence, they soon found 
themselves stranded on a flat rock, whose sur- 
face lay just below the water. 

“ There, what have I been telling you? ” cried 
Gifford. 

^‘Oh, this is nothing; I can push her off 
easily,” said Herbert, leaning over and bracing 
his paddle against the rock, giving so vigorous 
a push that he not only pushed the canoe off 
the rock, but almost tipped it over, shipping, 
as it was, enough water to wet their luggage 
uncomfortably. 

“ Now see, Bert,” remonstrated Gifford. “ If 
you go on in this reckless way you ’ll stave in 
the canoe, the next thing. Be more careful, 
can’t you? ” 

“ Don’t know. I ’ll try,” said Herbert, in an 


io8 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


off-hand way, waking “ the sleep that lies among 
the lonely hills ” with snatches of song. 

The long summer day was now waning to 
its close. The sun was already sinking behind 
the westward mountain-tops, and dark shadows 
fell on the river where it flowed along under the 
green gloom of overhanging alder and willow. 
It was a lonely region. Now and then a 

plump” into the water, and a wide-spreading 
circle of ripples, showed that they had disturbed 
some solitary muskrat in his seldom-visited 
haunts; or a startled bittern flew up from the 
river and away, dark against the radiant light 
of the western sky, its wild cries giving the 
boys a peculiar sense of far-away loneliness. 

They still hoped to make Goffstown Centre 
that night. It was Saturday, and they had 
planned to spend Sunday there. But these 
hopes were, as Herbert afterwards wrote in his 
journal, “ destined to be damply disappointed.” 
As they paddled swiftly on in the gathering 
dusk, they became aware of moving forms on 
the river-bank ahead. 

“ These human forms divine,” as Herbert 
joyfully announced them to Gifford, proved, on 


ON, DOWN, AND IN 


109 


nearer approach, to be a small boy and his 
dog. The boy carried an old shot-gun over his 
shoulder, while two squirrels, borne by the tail, 
showed that he had been making the most of 
his Saturday afternoon. 

The sound of voices caught his ear, and he 
stopped, all agog at this unwonted vision of 
canoe and canoeists; while the dog bounced 
along the edge of the bank, barking furiously, 
in a violent state of excitement. 

“ Be still, Tige ! ” cried his small owner; and 
when the dog was subdued, this conversation 
followed : — 

Hullo, Bub ! ” 

“ Hullo, yourselves ! ” 

“Where are you going?” 

“ Goin’ home. Been a chipmuckinV’ 

“ How far is it to Goffstown Centre? ” 

“ Dunno. ’T ain’t very fur.” 

“ Is there any house near here where we can 
stay over Sunday? ” 

“ There ’s a house back here a piece. P’raps 
they ’ll take you in.” 

This information seemed so vague, the boys 
thought they would push on a little farther, and 


I lO 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


see what developed. The small boy and the 
dog kept up as well as they could, hopping and 
running along the bank, the boy showing his 
unmistakably Yankee origin by the brisk fire of 
questions he poured forth, inquiring into every 
detail of the trip, the boys’ names, where they 
were from, where going, and so on. By and 
by it occurred to him to give them a bit of 
valuable information. 

“ Oh, say,” he called, there ’s some falls 
down here ! ” 

How far down, should you think? ” 

“ Oh, I dunno. ’T ain’t fur. A piece.” 

“ How high are they? ” 

“ ’Bout fifteen feet, I guess.” 

“ Straight down ? ” 

“ N-no, not exactly straight.” 

“ Think we can scale them? ” 

You might; but you might tip over.” 

The boys judged it best to push on and ex- 
amine for themselves. Soon the roar of the 
falls greeted their ears. 

It was now almost dark, but the boys were ex- 
tremely anxious to reach Goffstown Centre that 
night, and their success in shooting rapids had 


I 



ON, DOWN, AND IN 


III 


made them both, especially Herbert, quite reck- 
less, and disposed to take almost any risk to get 
on. So they swept swiftly on down-stream, the 
small boy, in a state of rapturous expectation, 
prancing along the shore, bound to be “ in at 
the death.” 

He was. Suddenly the “ Susan ” struck a 
rock, unseen in the darkness, and all was liter- 
ally over, — over into the water ! The canoe 
capsized so suddenly that both boys were thrown 
violently out, and disappeared in the white 
water, but soon reappeared, dripping and sput- 
tering. The small boy capered on the bank 
in a rapture of delight. This was beyond his 
wildest expectations. The falls roared loudly, 
and so did the boy; while his dog, feeling the 
general excitement without understanding it, 
ran wildly up and down, barking furiously. 

Luckily the “ Susan ” lay against the rock, 
athwart the river, facing up-stream, so that 
many floating articles lodged against it, and 
were thus saved from going over the falls. The 
waters were whitened far and near with Herbert’s 
.v^ooden toothpicks, which had so often seemed 
a bitter satire on their meagre diet. Crackers 


II2 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


and doughnuts bobbed about on the relentless 
bosom of the Piscataquog, strewn all about with 
debris of various kinds. 

Gifford and Herbert did not waste much time 
in remarks. They clutched wildly whatever 
they could grasp, waded ashore with it, and 
back for another load. The bottom of the 
river being covered with large round stones 
and slippery rocks, while the current was run- 
ning at full tilt, the boys found it hard to 
keep their foothold, and slipped and fell more 
than once as they struggled to and from the 
shore. 

Gifford secured the dark-lantern, but gave it 
a wild toss to the shore, in his excitement, 
where, landing on a rock, it was broken into a 
hundred pieces. 

Suddenly, in the dim light, Gifford saw his 
best, his only pair of shoes floating away down- 
stream. He was on the shore. 

“ Catch those shoes ! Quick, Bert, catch those 
shoes ! ” he shouted frantically, in tones heard 
above the roaring of the falls and Tiger’s bark- 
ing. Bert made a wild clutch, slipped and 
tumbled down, but secured one shoe. The 


ON, DOWN, AND IN. 


II3 

small boy ran alongshore with a long stick, 
poking and reaching, in imminent danger every 
- instant of tumbling into the rushing water, but 
all in vain. The other shoe went over the falls, 
and was seen no more. One of the paddles had 
also floated off, and a joint of Herbert’s fish- 
pole. These were the only important losses, 
but bad enough, the boys thought. 

They hauled the Susan ” up into a safe place 
for the night. In the darkness, it was impossible 
to see how seriously she had been damaged. 
The salvage from the wreck was concealed be- 
hind a big rock, and taking only their blank- 
ets and valises, the boys, under the friendly 
guidance of ’Bijah, — for such they learned 
was the small boy’s name, — struck inland for 
the house that was “ back a piece.” Hungry, 
cold, and dripping, feeling anxious about the 
Susan’s ” condition and the loss of the pad- 
dle, to say nothing of Gifford’s shoe, the boys 
walked silently along at first, rather dispirited. 
But when they came to an unusually high 
rail-fence, the natural boy cropped out again 
in Herbert He thought he would astonish 
’Bijah. 


8 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


1 14 


“ See me do this gracefully,” he said, laying 
his hand on the top rail, meaning to vault over 
in one grand bound. 

But somehow his foot caught, and he fell 
clumsily with all his weight into a sand-pile on 
the other side. 'Bijah laughed long and loud, 
but Gifford was anxious at first lest Herbert 
might be hurt. His only injury, however, 
proved to be the thick coating of sand that 
adhered to his wet clothing, and his spirits, be- 
ing stimulated by this adventure, now rose to 
high tide, and he beguiled the way with so 
many quips and pranks that 'Bijah’s wonder 
and admiration grew every moment greater. 

Arrived at the farm-house they were seeking, 
their knock was answered by a careworn, lank, 
discouraged-looking woman, behind whom trailed 
an indefinite number of children. This did not 
seem encouraging, nor did the woman’s startled 
look, as by the flickering light of the candle 
in her hand she descried these two decidedly 
rough-looking strangers. 

In response to their inquiries if she could 
keep them over Sunday, or even over night, she 
said decidedly : — 


ON, DOWN, AND IN. 


II5 

^‘No, I can’t keep no strangers over night. 
We ’re all sick. Six of my children have got 
the whooping-cough, and I ’m jest gettin’ over it 
myself. Why, is that you, ’Bijah Jackson? ” she 
exclaimed, catching a glimpse of their guide 
in the rear. “ What did you bring ’em here 
for? Why did n’t you take ’em down to your 
father’s tavern ? ” 

“Does your father keep a tavern?” asked 
Gifford. “ Why did n’t you tell us? ” 

“Didn’t know’s you’d want to go so fur,” 
said ’Bijah. “ You asked if there was a house 
near by, and this was the nighest.” 

Near or far, to go to the tavern was evidently 
their only course. After what seemed to their 
tired legs a weary tramp in the darkness along 
a dusty country road, they came to an old 
tavern whose best days had evidently passed 
away long ago, with the era of stage-coach trav- 
elling. Glad of any haven, however, the boys 
went in, and after drying their clothes as well 
as they could by the kitchen fire, had supper, — 
not a Delmonico repast exactly; but the boys 
were in no mood to be fastidious, and ate 
heartily of the homely fare. 


"116 THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Immediately after supper they went upstairs 
to their bedroom. Such a room they had never 
seen. The floor was not only carpetless, but 
very uneven, waving up and down in wooden 
billows, so to speak, and so worn by the coming 
and going footsteps of many years, that each 
knot stood up prominently, a little hillock. On 
the rickety bedstead was a soggy feather-bed, 
covered with a dingy quilt; while the rumpled 
pillow-cases suggested that possibly they might 
not have been changed since last used. It was 
also somewhat embarrassing to find the door off 
its hinges. 

Well,” said Herbert, looking with a comical 
air of resignation at Gifford, whose fastidiousness 
he well knew, explorers must not be too par- 
ticular. Very likely Stanley, in some African 
hut, may have fared worse than this.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Gifford, doubtfully. But 
to tell the truth, I am so dead tired that if this 
bed does n’t totally collapse and go down when 
we get in, — as I expect it will, — I believe I can 
sleep in spite of everything.” 

Propping the door up as best they could, the 
boys quickly shed their raiment, and with great 


ON, DOWN, AND IN 


I17 


caution climbed into bed. The bedstead creaked 
ominously, and keeled over upon one leg, but 
otherwise stood firm. It being the boys’ first 
night in a bed since their start, they slept 
soundly, although at first much disturbed by 
dreams of rocks and rapids, of rushing river 
and overturning canoes. Once, indeed, Gifford 
seized Herbert roughly. Herbert, wakened 
from sleep by this onslaught, naturally resisted, 
and the two rolled out upon the floor. 

“ What are you up to? ” asked Herbert. 

I don’t know,” said Gifford, wondering where 
he was. Oh, yes, I know. I dreamed we were 
just plunging over the falls, and I wildly grabbed 
at a big rock.” 

Herbert’s journal read: — 

“ Mr. Harrison’s to tavern in Goffstown, si^ 
miles. Seventeen miles from Francestown.” 


Ii8 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

TO MANCHESTER. 

HE boys awoke rather early the next day. 



The morning sun, streaming brightly in 
at their curtainless window, shone full in their 
faces, rendering further sleep impossible. With 
the curiosity which one always feels to view 
by daylight the unknown surroundings amid 
which he has arrived in the darkness of the pre- 
vious night, they looked out of the window. 

The first thing that greeted their eyes was a 
huge old-time sign, much the worse for wind 
and weather, hanging from the trunk of a stately 
great elm beside the tavern, bearing the words, 
‘‘ Uncanoonuc House.” All around rose pictu- 
resque green hills, that might more properly 
be called mountains. The fresh morning air 
blew in at the windows, sweet with all country 
odors of field and meadow, of grass an(4 leaves 


TO MANCHESTER. 


II9 

and flowers. Every little bird’s throat was rip- 
pling over with trills and quavers and runs of 
liquid music, the very air seeming to quiver with 
melody. No one passed along the quiet coun- 
try road. A Sunday sense of peace and quiet 
brooded over this remote nook. 

“ This is n’t a bad world to be in, is it, Gif? ” 
said Herbert, leaning out of the window and 
breathing in long breaths of the sweet air. 

“ No ; nor a bad morning to be alive in,” said 
Giflbrd. Do you know, if we had not cap- 
sized just when we did last night, I doubt some 
whether we should be here to enjoy it.” 

“ All my doing,” said Herbert. “ Give me the 
credit of saving you from a watery grave.” 

Their chamber door being off its hinges, as 
related, the boys were considerably embarrassed, 
while making their brief toilets, by the sound of 
some one evidently peeping in at them, and 
then scuttling away down the long hall. Her- 
bert lay in ambush, and finally succeeded in 
capturing the intruder, who proved to be their 
friend ’Bijah, he having evidently been under- 
going a struggle between his sense of propriety 
and an overpowering curiosity. He remained 


120 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


close by, escorted them down to breakfast, and 
indeed tagged faithfully at their heels all day. 

The boys made a hearty breakfast of baked 
beans ; being not only Boston boys, but also, as 
Herbert wrote in his diary, “ Naturally hungry 
for anything that was not crackers.” 

They then walked up to the spot where they 
had left the “ Susan,” to inspect her condition. 
When they came upon the scene of the wreck, 
Herbert exclaimed : — 

“ Never say we were not born under a lucky 
star ! The water is so deep here, and the cur- 
rent so strong, that in one minute more we 
should have been carried over these high falls 
in the darkness, and ten chances to one our 
brilliant career would have ended then and 
there.” 

You 're right,” said Gifford. It was a most 
fortunate accident. Another stroke of luck was 
that I left my rifle at home. It would have 
gone to the bottom, sure. The loss of our 
paddle is the most vexatious part of the whole 
business.” 

Can 't we whittle out a piece of board as a 
makeshift? ” asked Herbert. 


TO MANCHESTER. 


I2I 


“ I suppose we shall have to,” said Gifford. 

To the boys’ delight, they found the “ Susan ” 
surprisingly little damaged, considering all she 
had undergone, her injuries only such as they 
could easily repair. While they were examin- 
ing the canoe, ’Bijah and his dog were prowling 
about below the falls. ’Bijah now emerged from 
the bushes, shouting, — 

“ Say ! See here ! See what I ’ve found ! ” 
Sure enough, in his hand was the lost paddle, 
which had lodged in an eddy below the falls. 
This was a great stroke of luck, and made the 
boys feel that, on the whole, they had come out 
of the wreck in much better shape than they 
could have expected. 

They spent the rest of the morning writing 
long letters home, and also to Sue and Bessie, 
wherein their various adventures lost nothing 
by the telling. As dinner-time drew near, ’Bijah 
gave them this friendly warning : — 

“ I say, you ’d better look out and eat lots of 
dinner to-day, ’cause we don’t have any supper 
Sunday nights.” 

What the boys, in their character of ship- 
wrecked mariners, found a very good dinner 


122 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


was served, roast lamb and pie being its main 
features. Down the long table in the dining- 
room knives and forks were plied in solemn 
silence, with an earnestness that showed all to 
be mindful of the supperless prospect ahead. 
Every now and then the silence was broken by 
’Bijah, who, passing up his plate for another 
helping, said in a plaintive whine, “ I want some 
more laayom.” But when the pie appeared, 
Gifford insisted that Herbert came out ahead 
of ’Bijah by one piece. 

After dinner, the boys lounged around the 
deserted bar-room, trying to find something 
to read. They had of course not heard from 
home since they left Francestown, nor had they 
seen a newspaper, and they felt that great 
events might have been happening in that bust- 
ling world of which they were once a part. But 
they found only some dirty and fly-specked old 
weekly papers ; so they strolled out to a pleas- 
ant hillside sloping down to the Piscataquog, 
and lying there, in the shifting shadows of a 
wide-spreading maple, lazily watched the cloud- 
shadows floating peacefully down the mountain- 
side, until the drowsy rustling of the leaves, 


TO MANCHESTER. 


123 


and the murmurs of the river lulled them fast 
asleep. 

’Bijah, meantime, prowled about, now picking 
berries, now skipping stones across the river, 
and once slyly slipping into the canoe when he 
saw that the boys were fast asleep, and pleas- 
ing his imagination by voyaging, in fancy, to 
distant climes familiar to him in his geography, 
but never, under any circumstances, long losing 
sight of his heroes. 

On the whole, the day, if not exciting, passed 
very pleasantly, and the boys arose Monday 
morning, rested, and more eager than ever to 
resume their adventures by " flood and fell.” 
Their host charged them only a dollar apiece, 
which the boys felt moderate enough, in view 
of their immoderate appetites. He also went 
up with them, and helped carry the “ Susan ” 
around the falls. 

As the boys paddled off down-stream, ’Bijah 
and his dog stood mournfully on the shore and 
watched them until out of sight. ’Bijah had 
hinted that if urged he might be induced to 
bid home and friends farewell, and go with 
them ; and the boys had some difflculty in con- 


124 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


vincing him that a crew of two fully manned the 
“ Black-eyed Susan,” and that there was abso- 
lutely no room for a second mate. 

’Bijah, like the miller’s little boy, found his 
only comfort in secret resolves to have a canoe 
of his own, just like the “ Susan,” when a man. 

“ And I ’ll eat more, if I can,” he thought, 
‘^so’s to grow big faster.” 

The boys encountered another dam, near 
Goffstown Centre. That passed, came a stretch 
of deep, clear water, purling along over a clean, 
pebbly bottom, plainly seen below as they 
glided above it. They were passing through a 
lovely country. As the boys swept joyfully on 
down-stream, their laughing voices and dip- 
ping paddles startled into flight more than one 
lonely heron, standing pensively on one leg in 
the edge of the water, watching for fish, and 
sent the muskrats “ kerchunk ” into the stream, 
all along their route. Or a bittern flew up and 
away from some shady nook, his long legs hang- 
ing awkwardly down, his loud “ qua-ak ” re- 
sounding through the woodland solitude. 

Once they came swiftly around a bend in 
the high, wooded bank, upon a herd of cows 


TO MANCHESTER. 


125 


standing knee-deep in the cool, rippling water, 
dreamily chewing their cuds. At the sudden 
and alarming appearance of the canoe in their 
midst, they scrambled out, and galloped clum- 
sily off up the hillside pasture, the “kling-klang” 
of the bell on the leader’s neck chiming fainter 
and fainter, as the boys swept on down-stream. 

When they came to a deep, still pool over- 
hung by the thick shade of the woods on the 
shore, Gifford said, — 

“ This is irresistible. Let ’s have a good 
swim, Bert.” 

Agreed ! ” cried Bert, only too gladly shed- 
ding his few garments, and plunging in. 

So delicious was the sensation of floating and 
splashing about in the clear, cool water, that it 
was hard to tear themselves away from such 
delights, don clothes, pick up paddles and to 
work again, especially as now the sun, high 
overhead, poured down a fierce midday heat. 
The boys’ appetites needed no reminder that it 
was high noon, and dinner-time. They scanned 
the banks anxiously, and felt themselves for- 
tunate when at last a farm-house loomed up not 
far from the shore. 


126 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Beaching the canoe, they walked toward the 
house. On the grass in the shade north of 
it were stretched three men in shirt-sleeves, 
evidently enjoying an after-dinner rest. They 
stared in surprise at the strangers approaching. 

Can we get some dinner here? ” asked Gif- 
ford, adding the usual formula, ‘^We are canoe- 
ists; we are paddling down the river. We can 
pay for it.” He was aware that he and Bert, 
barefooted, and in canoe undress already much 
the worse for wear, might not unreasonably be 
taken for penniless tramps. 

Such was indeed the case. The men con- 
tinued to stare in silence. Finally one of them 
said : — 

“ She ’ll give you something, I guess,” indi- 
cating, by a sideways nod of his head, which 
rested on his joined hands, a woman standing 
in the back door, also staring, full of curiosity, 
at these unexpected guests. 

Bert always declared that she ” was the 
tallest, lankest, leanest specimen of womankind . 
ever seen outside a dime museum. But he 
also said he should ever remember fondly this 
Only Living Female Skeleton Extant. For did 


TO MANCHESTER. 


127 


she not bring forth a royal plate of biscuits, a 
plate of butter, a pan of milk, and a pie? And 
did not the boys sit on her north doorsteps and 
eat it all, except the pan and the plates? 

Their hostess stood by, and plied them with 
questions as they ate, frequently interrupting 
their answers by such exclamations as, “ Dew 
tell ! ” “ The land’s sake ! ” “ Mercy on us ! ” 
The sakes alive ! ” till finally Herbert was fain 
to excuse his no longer repressible laughter by 
attacking Gifford. 

“ I wish Sue Fox could see you now. Gif, 
sitting on this doorstep, with that hat on the 
back of your head, putting down that triangle 
of pie ! You ’re a study for an artist. ‘ Drink 
fair, Betsey, wotever you do ! ”’ 

And then Bert laughed again. 

** What a fule you be ! ” said their hostess, 
admiringly. “ I never see the beat on ye.” 

She charged only a quarter for the dinner, 
and she and the boys parted, mutually satisfied 
with their entertainment, their hostess’s monoto- 
nous life temporarily brightened by memories of 
them boys from Boston,” and their jokes. 

Gathering clouds had gradually obscured the 


128 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


brightness of the day, and now the dull gray 
sky, the dampness in the air, the maple-leaves 
turning up their white under-surfaces in the east 
wind, all indicated rain, which soon began to 
fall. The boys, however, were now too amphib- 
ious to mind a little water. 

“ Are n’t you afraid of spoiling your good 
clothes. Gif?” asked Herbert; ‘'that hat of 
yours might be injured.” 

“ I guess mine can bear it if yours can,” s^id 
Gifford, looking laughingly at the battered sem- 
blance of a hat poised on Herbert’s head with 
a decidedly don’t-care-for-anybody air. “ The 
fact is,” added Gifford, “ when we are going like 
this, I don’t care whether it rains or not.” 

They were having one of their best stretches 
of swift water, and went spinning down-stream 
gloriously, leaving a long, rippling wake behind 
them on the dimpled surface of the river. 

Late in the afternoon they reached a place 
rejoicing in the name of Squog, where at first 
they thought of spending the night, but not 
finding the outlook for comfort very flattering, 
finally decided to push on farther. To their sur- 
prise, not long after leaving Squog, they sud- 


TO MANCHESTER. 


129 


denly came out into that long-delayed haven 
of their hopes, the Merrimac. 

Well, here we are at last ! ” exclaimed Gifford, 
joyfully. 

Yes, here we are ! ” said Herbert. “ I de- 
clare, Gif, it seems too good to be true. The 
Merrimac has seemed like a far-away dream, 
that we should never realize.” 

“ Digging is what tells in the long run,” 
said Gifford. “ See, even old Sol celebrates 
our success ! ” 

The clouds had broken, and the sun, low 
down now in the west, sent out a flood of golden 
light, glorifying the beautiful scene that lay be- 
fore the boys’ admiring gaze. They thought 
that never before had they seen so lovely a 
view. Before them rolled the broad river, its 
tawny flood, golden in the sunlight, stretching 
far away to the south, into those unknown 
regions whither to-morrow their journey lay. 
On their left, as they turned up-stream, was 
the Piscataquog ; while above them lay the city 
of Manchester, seen under the span of a fine 
railroad-bridge. Nearly opposite them dashed 
down a series of terraces a foaming cataract 
9 


130 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


thirty or forty feet high, where the water from 
the Manchester canals is returned again to the 
Merrimac. Thoreau says of these falls : “ They 
are striking enough to have a name, and, with 
the scenery of a Bashbish, would be visited 
from far and near.” 

And now the yellow sunlight made every 
dripping bough and bush flash with trembling 
diamond-drops, threw a fleeting rainbow across 
the cataract’s spray, and set all the birds joy- 
fully singing, while the air was full of a delicious, 
cool fragrance after the rain. No wonder the 
boys were filled with joyful excitement. Be- 
sides, they confidently expected to find their 
first letters from home waiting for them in the 
Manchester post-office. 

They paddled rapidly up-stream toward Man- 
chester. After considering the situation, they 
decided that the safest place to leave the canoe 
that night was to fasten it to a pier of the rail- 
road-bridge. So Herbert put Gifford on shore, 
then undressed, took the “ Susan” out to the 
pier and secured her, swam ashore, and remade 
his simple toilet ; then the boys walked up into 
Manchester. 


TO MANCHESTER. 


131 

Meeting a man on the way, they asked him : 

“ Can you tell us of any place where we can 
get cheap lodgings for the night? We have just 
come down the Piscataquog in a canoe.” 

“Oh, be you the fellers?” asked the man, 
regarding them with new interest. 

“ Why, yes ; but how did you know about 
it?” they asked in wonder. 

“ Why, I saw a notice of it in the * Mirror.’ ” 

Here was unexpected fame. 

“ Evidently the reporter haunts even the wilds 
of the Piscataquog,” said Gifford. 

“ Good joke ! ” said Herbert. “ We must have 
been interviewed some time when we did n’t 
mistrust it ! ” 

They hastened to buy copies of the “ Mirror.” 
There were some of the usual inaccuracies of 
detail. They were said to be Lowell boys, 
who had been attending school in Francestown. 
Still, the boys sent carefully marked copies 
home, and to various girl friends. 

Greatly to their disappointment, they found 
no letters in the post-office. It seemed months, 
rather than days, since they left home. Writing 
their own postal cards, however, they took an 


132 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


inexpensive supper at a Holly-Tree Inn, and 
then began hunting for cheap lodgings. Some 
places at which they inquired were not good 
enough for them ; at others, it seemed they 
were not deemed good enough for the places, 
as they were' regarded suspiciously, and given 
abrupt refusals, with an air that implied, “We 
may be cheap, but we don’t take in tramps.” 

Finally, when the boys were almost in despair, 
they found a small lodging-house kept by a 
quaint little old lady, who came to the door 
holding a kerosene-lamp in her hand. By its 
light flaring in the night wind she too scruti- 
nized suspiciously through her spectacles the 
shabby clothes, the dilapidated hats, and Gif- 
ford’s shoeless foot. But something in the 
open, boyish faces, the pleasant voices, seemed 
to soften the old lady’s heart; for after her 
scrutiny was ended, she said slowly: — 

“ Well, I guess you ’re pretty good kind o* 
boys, after all. You can come in. I ’ll give 
you a room for a quarter apiece.” 

The boys were only too glad to accept thjs 
offer. The little room to which she showed 
them was so scrupulously neat, so really fra- 


rO MANCHESTER. 


133 


grant with cleanliness, the bed so comfortable, 
that it is no wonder Herbert wrote in his jour- 
nal that night before turning sleepily in : — 

Our accommodations are absolutely sumptu- 
ous ! Made to-day from Uncanoonuc House 
to Manchester, nine miles. Twenty-six miles 
from starting-point’* 


134 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE CANOE LOST. 

BRIGHT and beautiful morning dawned, 



after the rain, and the boys, refreshed by 
a good night’s rest, and animated by the pros- 
pect of voyaging on the Merrimac, rose full of 
eager hopefulness. 

They found the ** Black-eyed Susan ” safe and 
sound where they had left her, swaying in the 
current and tugging impatiently at her rope, 
apparently as eager to be off and away as her 
masters. As they swept down past the mouth 
of the Piscataquog, Herbert said, half regret- 
fully:— 

“ Good-by, old Piscataquog ! We Ve had 
more than one stout tussle with you, and have 
come off second-best sometimes. But I forgive 
you all now.” 

So do I,” said Gifford. ** Do you know, 
Bert, I should be sorry if I thought I should 


THE CANOE LOST. 


135 


never see the Piscataquog again, — the Indians’ 
‘ Sparkling Water.’ ” 

Canoeing on the Merrimac was as different 
as possible from the same sport on the Piscata- 
quog. They made rapid progress, however, for 
the first time enjoying the delight of going at 
their utmost speed uninterruptedly. As the 
day wore on, it proved as hot as the morning 
had promised, and the boys began to pine for a 
swim. By and by they came to a place where 
some logs, floating down-stream, had caught 
and piled up on a great pier of logs built in the 
river. They were crowded and jammed to- 
gether in one great, chaotic mass. The river 
ran deep and clear each side the pier, while 
the spot was delightfully shaded and shut in by 
trees and bushes. 

“ Here ’s our chance,” said Gifford. 

“ Just the spot for a good swim,” said Herbert. 

Tying the Susan ” to a log, the boys un- 
dressed, congratulating themselves on being 
able to leave their clothes on the clean, white 
logs, skipped gayly out along the pile of logs as 
actively as two young monkeys, and dived head- 
foremost into the deep water. It was glorious 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


136 


fun, but the water was decidedly cold, so that 
they were soon satisfied, and scrambling up the 
logs, began to dress. 

The boys did not suppose that their compara- 
tively light weight could disturb the equilibrium 
of the logs, they were so huge, and seemed so 
tightly jammed together. But just as they were 
sunning themselves complacently, and just as 
Herbert had put on his clean, dry shirt, some- 
how a log started, and then all the logs loosened, 
and began to roll and tumble. 

Both boys were badly frightened. Herbert’s 
active imagination saw his legs crushed among 
the rolling logs. Giving a cry of horror, he 
sprang wildly into the water. Gifford, equally 
frightened, but of less impulsive temperament, 
scrambled about briskly until he found safe 
refuge upon some stationary logs. Then the 
absurdity of Herbert’s forced bath in his clean 
shirt struck him, and when Herbert emerged, 
dripping, but safe and sound, Gifford was hold- 
ing his sides laughing, and Herbert soon joined 
him. 

Herbert found that one of his shoes had dis- 
appeared among the rolling logs. Worst of all. 


THE CANOE LOST 


137 


an immense log lay jammed down across the 
bow of the canoe. This was bad enough. The 
boys feared that their efforts to start this log 
would set the rest rolling down upon them, yet 
it must be attempted. They tried cautiously to 
stir it, but it was impossible. Then they got 
into the stern of the canoe and tried to lift the 
log ; but this only pressed the bow more closely 
up against it. When they pushed the boat 
down, the log went with it. Finally, with the 
energy born of despair, they gave a Herculean 
tug. The log raised, the canoe freed herself 
with a jerk and capsized, throwing both boys 
into the water. 

This was Herbert’s third bath in the cold 
river. As they came up, seized and righted the 
canoe, and scrambled aboard, all dripping, 
Gifford said, — 

“ Just the spot for a good swim, was n’t it, 
Bert?” 

“ I should say so,” said Herbert. “ I ’ve had 
all the swimming I want for a while. If I don’t 
find my shoe. Gif, fancy the figure we shall cut, 
each with only one shoe, like * Hey diddle 
diddle, my son John’! ” 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


138 


But farther down-stream, luckily, they over- 
took the lost shoe sailing peacefully along by 
itself. Just at noon they came to a beautiful 
island, which divided the river into two 
streams. 

The boys hailed the island with delight, and 
landed with an agreeable sense of being its first 
discoverers, and, in a measure, its proprietors. 
They ran the ** Susan’s ” prow into the sand, 
and finally drew her well up the beach. 

“ The Merrimac is not so frisky a stream as 
our old friend the Piscataquog,” said Gifford ; 
“ yet the river god might be tempted to play us 
a trick, and elope with the ‘ Black-eyed Susan ’ 
if we should give him a chance.” 

Under some maple-trees they built a fire, 
partly because it seemed the proper thing to 
do on an island, and partly to toast their 
cheese, which, spread on thick slices of the 
delicious fresh bread, made a most acceptable 
luncheon. 

‘‘ Gifford,” said Herbert, as he made a semi- 
circle of incredible size in his slice of bread 
and cheese, “ this life just suits me. The In- 
dians were old wise-heads. They knew how to 


THE CANOE LOS 7 


139 


get the most pleasure out of existence. Who 
wouldn’t be an Indian?” 

Gifford was toasting cheese on the end of his 
jack-knife. I know one thing,” he said. “ I ’m 
not pining for the Latin School at present.” 

Latin School ! Don’t mention it ! ” cried 
Herbert. 

Speaking of Indians,” said Gifford, “ don’t 
you remember when Mrs. Dunstan and her 
nurse were taken captive at Haverhill they were 
brought to an Indian camp on an island in the 
Merrimac, somewhere along here ? Perhaps 
this is the identical island that ran red with 
Indian blood when she scalped the ten Indians 
in their ^leep, and then fled down the river in 
one of their canoes.” 

“ It is a pleasing fancy ! ” said Herbert, sar- 
castically. He was lying stretched out in the 
maples’ shade, his head pillowed on his long- 
suffering hat, in an agreeable mood of after- 
dinner laziness that made him disposed to 
prolong their tarry. 

The boys enjoyed a delightful siesta on their 
island. But suddenly Gifford sprang up, saying, 
** If we hope to reach Nashua to-night, as we 


140 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


planned, we shall have to paddle fast to make 
up lost time. Come on, Bert ! ” 

“We’re just rushing this trip, aren’t we?” 
said Herbert, tearing himself up reluctantly from 
his fascinating resting-place. 

They were soon off once more, and now made 
rapid progress,* spinning along down-stream with 
lusty sweeps of the paddles. 

Along in the afternoon they came to an apron 
dam. The popular impression that it takes a deal 
of experience to teach boys even a little caution, 
was fully verified by the boys’ further proceed- 
ings, in spite of their little adventure of the logs. 



The height of the dam was about ten feet, but 
the force of the fall was broken by three de- 
scents. The water fell from the top about three 


THE CANOE LOST. 


141 


feet to a sloping platform of logs eighteen feet 
wide, called the apron, and then made another 
straight jump to the river-bed below. 

The boys leaped out to discover the easiest 
way of making a carry. But at sight of the 
apron, they exclaimed in one breath, — 

Why is n’t this shootable? ” 

Their wildest expectations had never, as yet, 
risen to the height of shooting a dam. But 
this really looked feasible, and both were fired 
with ambition to try it. 

They asked some boys, who had stopped 
their fishing from the pier to watch their move- 
ments with undisguised interest, whether any 
one had ever shot this dam, and learned that 
canoeists had generally carried around it. 

They were agreed, however, that it would 
never do to miss such sport as this. They 
chose a place where plenty of water poured over 
the flashboard, lest their canoe should stick 
there and capsize, and also where the river- 
bed below looked fairly smooth, though a few 
rods from the foot of the dam the water was 
badly churned up by rapids. As the apron 
would not, of course, be visible up-stream, they 


142 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


sighted this place carefully by a tall pine which 
stood in a line with it down -stream, and then 
re-embarked, paddling up-river some distance 
to get a flying start. 

Every nerve and fibre set and tense with ex- 
citement, they sped down with a rush for the 
dam. The “ Susan ” took the dashboard like a 
duck, just grazing it, but in no way retarded, 
coming over with a swoop like an eagle, taking 
the apron with an even keel, sweeping across it 
in magnificent style, and making a superb leap 
into the river-bed below. Her bow ducked far 
below the water-line, under the waves, and for 
a moment she seemed wholly submerged. An- 
other instant and she righted herself, laboring 
heavily, but still afloat. 

With a wild yell of triumph, the boys put her 
nose to the nearest bank, and in half a minute 
more were gazing back in breathless exultation 
at the dam down which they had just made this 
flying leap. 

“ The greatest moment in my life ! ” exclaimed 
Gifford. 

Glorious ! I never felt such a delightful 
sensation ! ” said Herbert. 


THE CANOE LOST. 


143 


Below the dam were the worst rapids the boys 
had yet encountered. The water was white from 
beginning to end, signifying treachery, as they 
well knew. The rocks were there. Though 
they might be a foot below the surface, the 
white water had no buoyancy, and the canoe 
would sink through it to the rocks. Running 
along the bank and reconnoitring, they saw that 
there was only one course, — to keep just to 
the right of an ugly black ledge of rocks that 
projected, a sharp edge, above the foaming 
water. 

Having tipped the water from their canoe, 
the boys entered the rapids with faster beating 
hearts, aiming for this point. In a moment 
they were in the swell of the current. The 
whirling waters seemed to seize them with irre- 
sistible force. But not so. Many a rock was 
just avoided by a deft sweep of the stern paddle 
in Gifford’s hand. Herbert jammed his paddle 
with all his energy against an ugly rock, upon 
which it seemed they must certainly come to 
grief, keeping the canoe from dashing against it, 
while Gifford, backing water, brought the stern 
around, so that they rushed safely by their foe. 


144 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


instead of stranding. Every nerve was strained 
to the utmost. There was hardly time to think. 
In less time than it takes to tell about it, they 
were safely through, and the canoe was dashing 
about in the breakers below the rapids. 

Here a new danger beset them. The breakers 
were so high that the Susan ” shipped water 
constantly. 

“ One more breaker, and we should have had 
to swim for it,” said Gifford, after they had 
paddled their water-logged craft to the shore 
with much difficulty. 

“ I Ve had about enough sport for one day,” 
said Herbert, wiping his face. 

Everything went tamely after this, and they 
reached the mouth of the Nashua River near 
sundown, without further adventure. 

Wishing to go up to the Nashua post- 
office, they beached the '' Susan ” in a secluded 
nook. 

I don’t believe any one will find her there,” 
said Gifford. “ But we will take our luggage 
ashore, and hide it in that clump of bushes, 
as a precaution. I vote we take the paddles 
too, Bert.” 


THE CANOE LOST. 


145 


Oh, what ’s the use ! ” said Herbert. No 
one ’s going to touch the canoe ! ” 

“This- is a very different locality from the 
lonely Piscataquog region,” said Gifford. “ But 
perhaps it is safe enough to leave them.” 

Going up through a grove near by, toward 
the post-office, the boys encountered a group 
of young roughs, who showed the disposition 
of the Northumberland natives, as depicted in 
Punch’s well-known picture, “ ‘ Bill, there ’s a 
stranger.’ ‘Is there? Heave a rock at him.’ ” 
Despite the bedraggled aspect of Gifford and 
Herbert, some subtle instinct seemed to tell 
their new acquaintances that these boys be- 
longed to another class, — the class supposed 
to be ready to “ put on airs ” at the slightest 
provocation. 

“ Hi ! See the city dudes ! ” they cried, and 
picking up stones, began throwing them, and 
calling offensive names. 

The boys’ muscles were in prime order, nor 
were they deficient in pluck. Black eyes and 
blue eyes flashed, and they advanced so reso- 
lutely that the roughs skulked off, muttering all 
sorts of threats as they retreated. 


146 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


This little breeze put the boys in better 
spirits, which were still further elated by finding, 
at last, letters from home for each. And each, 
too, had a large square envelope bearing the 
latest device in monograms, directed in the 
slashing, dashing style of penmanship peculiar 
to the young lady of the period ! The home 
letters brought only good news, with abun- 
dance of warm love, and innumerable cautions 
and warnings ; while from the others they 
learned what a terrible void their departure 
had made in all the Roxbury sailing-parties 
and picnics, with much other information of 
deep interest. 

What warms the heart with a happier glow 
than loving letters from loving friends? The 
boys were as happy as kings are popularly sup- 
posed to be. They acknowledged the home 
letters then and there with brief but character- 
istic postal- card messages, that were sure to be 
read at home with proud smiles at the bright- 
ness of “ our boys,” reserving the others for 
more elaborate replies. 

Procuring a modest supper, they returned to 
their landing-place, having decided that it was 


THE CANOE LOST. 


147 


best to camp for the night in the grove, near 
their canoe. 

It was now quite dark. Though neither con- 
fessed it, both felt some uneasiness for the 
safety of the “ Susan,” after their encounter 
with the roughs. As they neared the junction 
of the rivers, Herbert quoted in melodramatic 
fashion a bit of Whittier : — 

“ But hark ! — from wood and rock flung back. 

What sound comes up the Merrimac? ” 

The loud plashing of paddles, indicating their 
use by awkward hands, the sound of voices 
receding in the distance, were indeed plainly 
audible through the darkness. 

** It will be no laughing matter for us, Bert,” 
said Gifford, anxiously, “ if that canoe 's been 
taken.” 

“ Oh, there ’s no danger. We shall find her 
all right,” said Herbert, assuming more con- 
fidence than he really felt, “ bluffing off fate,” as 
he called it. 

Arrived at their landing-place, they groped 
anxiously about in the darkness. Their luggage 
was behind the bushes, as they had left it, but 


148 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


the canoe was gone ! In vain did they grope 
and search up and down the shore. The dear 
old “Black-eyed Susan,” their friend and com- 
rade who had shared their joys and perils like 
a living creature, was gone, — fallen perhaps 
into rough hands, that would ill use, abuse her. 
Unmanly though they would have felt it, the 
boys could almost have cried. 

“ I wish now that I had hidden those pad- 
dles,” said Herbert, sorrowfully. “ It ’s an awful 
shame ! ” 

“ There ’s no help for it now, as I see,” said 
Gifford. ' “ The only thing we can do is to 
wait until morning, and then do our utmost 
to get track of her.” 

They took their luggage up into the grove, . 
rolled up in their blankets, and lay down for the 
night in a silence and depression of spirits that 
formed the greatest possible contrast to their 
late gayety. The remembrance of their letters 
no longer cheered them, and the fact that they 
had made sixteen miles that day, — forty-two 
miles in all, — and had shot an apron dam, did 
not elate them. They lay in gloomy silence, 
listening to the mournful howling of the east 


THE CANOE LOST. 


149 


wind through the trees, the dreary “lap, lap,” 
of the water against the bank. A gradually 
thickening haze crept up from the river all about 
them, until not a star shone through the dehse 
darkness. Dogs barked persistently not far 
away, their remarks taken up, magnified, and 
repeated by all the dogs in Nashua, apparently. 
An occasional passing footfall echoing loudly in 
their ears, as they lay on the ground, suggested 
the possible return of the roughs on a midnight 
foray; -and worse than all was the anxiety they 
suffered about the “ Susan.” On the whole, it 
was but a wretched night. 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


150 


CHAPTER X. 

THE MERRY MAIDEN. 

HE boys woke from their troubled sleep 



at the first dawning of daylight. It was 
a gray, gloomy morning. A thick white fog 
enshrouded everything in its ghostly mantle. 
Every bush and leaf dripped with moisture, and 
all weather indications said plainly, “ Look out 
for rain about this time.” 

The boys, lame and unrefreshed after their 
restless night, were in a state of spirits that har- 
monized with the grayness of the morning. 
They searched up and down the river-shore in 
a last hope of yet finding the “ Susan.” Where 
she had been tied, the trampled shore and foot- 
prints in the mud showed but too plainly that 
she had been stolen. 

“Well,” said Herbert, finally, “there’s no use 
in looking farther. She ’s gone. Now, what are 
we going to do ? ” 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 151 

I suppose we shall have to take the cars for 
home,” said Gifford. “ It ’s a downright shame. 
We have got on capitally, so far, and the trip 
was a splendid success. Now, to make such a 
fizzle as this, — flat out and go home in the 
cars ! It ’s more than I can bear ! And to lose 
the ‘ Black-eyed Susan ’ ! ” 

Meantime, the fog was lifting a little, and they 
could now see across the river. 

“ Great Scott ! ” said Herbert, suddenly, as 
they stood mournfully beside the Merrimac, its 
gray flood rolling along in gloomy hues that 
matched the world around it. “ What’s that? ” 
Was it possible? A canoe was seen dimly 
emerging from the fog down-stream. 

Good enough ! ” exclaimed Gifford. “ It is 
the ‘Susan’! Now for it! We will not give 
her up without a struggle.” 

The boys waited quietly until the canoe was 
opposite them. Then they hailed the big, 
rough-looking fellow who was clumsily pad- 
dling her. 

“ Here ! what are you doing with that 
canoe?” shouted Gifford. 

No answer. 


152 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ You can bring it back this instant. Oh, I 
know you, and I’ll have you arrested in about 
five minutes if you don’t bring that canoe here 
now ! ” 

Great is the power of moral right. The 
fellow was bigger and stronger than either Gif- 
ford or Herbert, and had he chosen to resist, 
they would have been decidedly nonplussed. 
But he knew that he was in the wrong. To their 
great joy he turned the prow toward shore and 
paddled up to them. As he stepped out of the 
canoe, he said sulkily, — 

“ Sam Jones told me he bought the boat of 
you fellers for five dollars. I borrerred it of 
him to go a fishin’ in.” 

‘‘Too nebulous,” said Gifford. “Tell that 
story to the marines.” 

Only too glad, however, to recover the canoe, 
they did not stop to bandy words with the fel- 
low, but hastened to load up and get away as 
soon as possible from this disagreeable locality. 
Like some other travellers, they generalized 
from limited observations, and decided that 
Nashua was a most unattractive place, upon 
which they were glad to turn their backs. 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 


153 


The recovery of the “ Susan/' after they had 
given her up as lost forever, was a piece of good 
fortune that raised their spirits to high tide 
again. The little canoe, with which they had 
shared so many ups and downs, was really 
“ loved for the dangers she had passed.” They 
resolved to be very vigilant hereafter, and run 
no risks of another such disaster. 

The early morning air now made them con- 
scious of aching voids within, and they let the 
canoe drift while they breakfasted on some 
ham sandwiches, their only souvenir of detested 
Nashua. Meantime, the fog, after considerable 
vacillation, finally thought better of it, and as 
the sun mounted higher grew gradually less 
dense, then broke and floated away in fleecy 
shreds and remnants up the hillsides, dissolv- 
ing at last, and vanishing in the deep blue of 
the sky. The sun’s rays seemed doubly bril- 
liant and beautiful in contrast with the gray, 
damp morning ; but their heat promised a very 
warm day for paddling. The boys, however, 
pushed on undismayed, in glorious spirits, feel- 
ing “ All 's well with the world,” since they had 
recovered the “ Susan.” 


154 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


The descent of the river was now less rapid. 
It widened, and became at once more imposing 
and slower, seeming now to lay aside the wild 
impulsiveness of youth to assume the dignity of 
maturity. As they paddled on, Herbert sang 
the old-fashioned ballad, — 

“ Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, 

Flow gently, I ’ll sing thee a song in thy praise. 

My Mary ’s asleep by thy murmuring stream ; 

Flow gently, sweet river, disturb not her dream,” 

Only, in delicate compliment to his comrade 
he changed the Mary to Susan. 

While the strains of this ballad quavered high 
on the summer air, ” linked sweetness long drawn 
out,” as Gifford sarcastically observed, their at- 
tention was attracted by the singular conduct 
of a cow in the field they were passing. She 
pranced clumsily along the bank above them, 
evidently following the canoe, drawn by some 
unknown but irresistible attraction, and seeming 
in much agitation of mind. 

Gifford burst into laughter. 

” Bert,” he said, “ you are a second Orpheus. 
I apologize. I have n’t appreciated your mu- 
sical genius. See that cow. Evidently your 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 


155 


strains have thrown a spell over the poor beast. 
She is literally enchanted. I don’t doubt all 
the fish in the river are swimming in our wake, 
and all the birds of the air will soon be flying 
in dense clouds over our heads, if you don’t 
hold up.” 

“ No,” %aid Herbert, “ you ’re mistaken. We 
must have crossed the State line. That cow is 
none of your common cows. She is a Massa- 
chusetts cow, — a cow of culture, feeling, earn- 
estness. Probably she sings a little herself, 
among her friends. At all events, evidently she 
has a cultivated ear. She knows a good thing 
when she hears it.” 

And so joking, the boys paddled on, paying 
little attention to the cow, which still followed 
them. Their early and meagre breakfast, and 
the increasing heat of the sun, as well as their 
harder work in the now sluggish current, dis- 
posed them for rest and dinner at the first favor- 
able opportunity. So they were now glad to see 
an attractive-looking farm-house, standing some 
way back from the river across the pasture. It 
was old, but well preserved. Its mossy roof 
sloped nearly to the ground in the rear. Up 


156 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


and down its venerable clapboards the sunlight 
glinted fitfully through the hanging boughs of 
some grand old elms. In the side yard towered 
up a sloping well-sweep, that took the boys’ 
fancy at once. 

“Here’s the very place we’ve been looking 
for,” said Gifford. “ Let ’s land and try for din- 
ner here. 

‘Here where the beechnuts drop among the grasses, 

Push the boat in, and throw the line ashore.’ ” 

“ All right,” said Herbert. “ Those ham 
sandwiches have reminded me of Josh Billings’s 
saying that if he could only have enough salt 
mackerel for breakfast, he could make his other 
two meals that day of cold water. I expire for 
a drink, — especially a drink from 

‘ The moss- covered bucket that I have no doubt hangs in 
that well.’ ” 

“ Do7i!t sing, Bert,” said Gifford. “ Don’t you 
see you’re stirring up that cow’s sensibilities 
again? ” 

Indeed, their friend the cow stood on the 
shore, watching their movements with the live- 
liest interest. 







So he stood his ground, retreating slowly backward across the pasture.” 

— Page 157. 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 


157 


“ Oh, never mind the cow,” said Herbert, 
going ahead. “She’s all right. She and I 
understand each other.” 

“ I shall take a paddle ashore all the same,” 
said Gifford ; at which excessive caution Herbert 
laughed. 

The boys landed, and ignoring the cow, 
struck straight across the pasture for the 
house. Herbert, who was some distance ahead, 
had already reached the fence, when, turning 
around, he discovered that the cow had no in- 
tention of being quietly ignored. The fact that 
Gifford wore a red jersey had no doubt attracted 
her attention to the canoeists. She had lowered 
her head and come furiously on, determined to 
dispute the passage of her territory. 

Gifford’s obstinacy was roused by this wholly 
uncalled-for conduct on the cow’s part. So he 
stood his ground, retreating slowly backward 
across the pasture, facing the cow, and warding 
off her assaults by a vigorous use of the paddle, 
while Herbert sat on the fence, laughing, and 
shouting : — 

“ ‘ Beware the Jabberwock, my son ! ’ 

‘ The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, 


158 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, 

And burbled as it came: ’ 

‘ One, two ! One, two ! And through and through 
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack ! * 

Two to one on the cow ! ” and the like. 

Gifford was too absorbed to pay much atten- 
tion to this chaffing. Round and round he and 
the cow whirled, the cow surrounding him on 
all sides, as it were, Gifford plying his paddle 
with a skill that would not have discredited the 
matador of a Spanish bull-fight. Finally, as 
he neared the fence, he gave the cow one last 
thrust, dropped the paddle, darted to the fence, 
laid one hand on it, and vaulted lightly over 
into the bed of sweet-fern where Herbert now 
lay rolling with laughter, having tumbled off 
the fence. 

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock ? 

Come to my arms, my beamish boy ! ” 

he cried, rising, and affecting to embrace his 
friend. 

Pshaw ! ” said Gifford, shaking him off, laugh- 
ing ; have done with your nonsense, Bert. At 
least, I did not run for her ! ” 

Gifford was too heated by his recent active 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 


159 


exercise to be in a mood for congratulations. 
He now noticed, too, that there had been other 
witnesses of his prowess. In the front door of 
the farm-house stood an old lady and a very 
pretty young one. The old lady looked anx- 
ious, while the young lady’s pretty brown eyes 
danced with ill-concealed mirth. 

At this unexpected sight Herbert instinc- 
tively gave a furtive poke of adjustment to the 
place where his hair would have been, had it 
not been so closely “ lawn-mown ” before start- 
ing on the trip that only a mouse-colored gray 
stubble was left. 

Gifford glanced in dismay at his feet, shod 
with one shoe and one old slipper, and, con- 
scious that a blazing red face does not improve 
the charms of a yellow-haired youth, blushed 
an even deeper scarlet, by way of helping the 
matter, turning with an instinctive impulse to 
retire to the canoe and depart dinnerless, rather 
than face a pretty girl in such guise. 

But the old lady addressed him at once, full 
of anxious sympathy. 

“ That pesky Betsy ’s been a pesterin’ of you ! 
I declare, it ’s too bad ! I don’t know what ails 


i6o 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


her once in a while. She never could abide red. 
I tell father he’ll have to kill her, or she’ll do 
some mischief yet, in one of her tantrums. Be 
you hurt any?” 

Gifford assured the kind old lady that he was 
uninjured, and that, in the language of Mr. 
Toots, it was of no consequence,” and could 
not refrain from maliciously adding, — 

“ The cow’s excitement was quite natural. 
She has been listening for some lime to my 
friend’s singing.” 

“ You don’t say so ! Why, I did n’t know ’s 
she minded music ! ” 

“ I presume she does n’t,” replied Gifford, 
dryly; whereat the old lady looked puzzled, 
and the young one giggled, while Herbert felt 
a strong desire to punish Gifford. 

“Well, it’s too bad. Come into the settin’- 
room and cool off, and I ’ll git you something 
to eat. The men-folks all carried their dinners 
to-day over into the mowin’, so I want calcu- 
latin’ to git much to eat this noon. Thought 
I ’d have cold b’iled-dish.” 

The boys at once intimated that “ cold b’iled 
dish ” was the very thing for which they pined ; 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 


l6l 


and the old lady departed to prepare dinner, 
leaving Gracie, as she called her, to entertain 
the boys in her absence. 

Young people get acquainted rapidly." By 
the time the boys had recounted the story of 
their adventures, their worn raiment was no 
longer something to be ashamed of, but rather 
the best of jokes, at which they all laughed to- 
gether; and when dinner was announced they 
were quite old friends. Herbert paid off old 
scores against Gifford by insinuating that he 
was the identical 

“ Man all tattered and torn” 

who had met and overcome in single combat 
“ The cow with the crumpled horn.” 

Though he proceeded no farther in his quota- 
tion, both Gifford and Grace blushed, and began 
hastily talking about some Boston friends they 
had discovered each knew well. 

Grace was certainly a remarkably pretty girl. 
Her hair was of the genuine Titian golden hue, 
her complexion that of infantile pink and white 
freshness, which always goes with such hair, 
while her eyes were a dark brown, such as are 


II 


i 62 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


usually called black. Her home was in Worces- 
ter, and she was spending part of the summer 
vacation on her father’s ancestral farm with 
her great-aunt. 

The fact that she was somewhat older than' 
the too impressible Herbert did not lessen her 
fascinations in the eyes of that fickle youth, 
and Gifford had some difficulty in tearing 
him away, even after an unduly prolonged 
nooning. 

“ Do you want to get sunstruck. Gif, paddling 
in such a sun as this? ” he remonstrated. 

Finally Gifford insisted that they must go, 
if they would reach Lowell that night, as they 
had hoped. 

The most cordial good-byes were exchanged 
all round. The boys crossed the fateful pas- 
ture without again encountering the musical 
Betsy. As they glided away down-stream, 
there was much waving of hats to the distant 
front door under the elms, whence a white 
handkerchief fluttered as long as they were in 
sight. 

They paddled on for a while in silence, Her- 
bert looking rather pensive, and finally heaving 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 


163 


a portentous sigh, whereat Gifford unfeelingly 
laughed, and said, — 

“ Poor Bert ! Perhaps it would relieve your 
feelings to sing something. I don’t see any 
cows around.” 

“ Did you hear her say, Gif,” said Herbert, 
quite oblivious of his friend’s raillery, “ that she 
knows Alice Poindexter, and is to spend the 
Christmas holidays with her in Roxbury?” 

“Oh, then there is hope,” said Gifford. “And 
how about Bessie Temple? It’s a clear case of 

‘ How happy could I be with either. 

Were t’ other dear charmer away ! ’ ” 

“ Bessie Temple is abundantly able to take 
care of herself,” said Herbert, adding his opin- 
ion that Grace was “ an out-and-out stunner,” 
which fact Gifford did not attempt to dispute. 

The canoe had now rounded the great bend 
in the Merrimac, and was no longer going south, 
but due east. The afternoon sun beat hotly on 
their backs, and their long nooning had belated 
them. So on every account the boys were 
thankful to accept the offer of some friendly 
fellow-navigators of the Merrimac to “ hitch 
on behind ” their craft. It was a flat-boat, pro- 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


164 


pelled by steam, loaded with gravel for Lowell. 
Towed rapidly along by this boat, the “ Black- 
eyed Susan ” glided easily, if somewhat inglori- 
ously, down-stream ; while the boys lay back, 

“ Rocked in the cradle of the de-eep,” 

as Herbert roared, to the vast entertainment of 
the flat-boatmen, resting their weary backs and 
“ horny hands,” as they well called those much- 
enduring members. 

“ This is regal,” said Herbert. Cleopatra in 
her barge was nothing compared to this.” 

“ Yes, I supposed this sort of canoeing would 
just suit you,” said Gifford, as they floated roy- 
ally on in the wake of the flat-boat. 

Thanks to its assistance, they reached the 
entrance to the canal above the Lowell dam in 
the gloam of the summer evening. 

Concord River flows into the Merrimac a 
little below Lowell, but navigation is facilitated 
by a series of locks leading from the Merrimac, 
above the dam, into the Concord. The Merri- 
mac swept on most invitingly seaward, and the 
boys bade it farewell not without longings to 
follow it to the end. But their plans for the 


THE MERRY MAIDEN. 


165 


trip took them up the Concord, so they now 
prepared to enter these classic waters. 

At the head of the first lock they found the 
keeper’s home to be a particularly neat, inviting 
little place. On asking him, “ Can you let us 
through to-night? ” he replied, “ I can let you 
through this lock, but you will have trouble get- 
ting through the lower locks to-night. You ’d 
best wait over until morning.” 

He seemed a kind, pleasant man, and the 
boys asked, — 

“Can we camp down on your grass for the 
night? ” 

“ Why, no,” he replied. The boys’ faces fell, 
but shortened again quickly when he added, “ I 
can’t hear of your lying outdoors. The nights 
are getting damp and coolish now. You ’d bet- 
ter come right into our house. My wife will 
keep you over night, I know.” 

They received a most cordial welcome from 
Mrs. Ames, the lock-keeper’s wife, who showed 
them to a little room, plain indeed, but sweet 
with perfect neatness, and pretty with a simple 
good taste. The boys made such toilet as their 
limited wardrobes afforded, and felt after it. 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


1 66 


as Herbert said, “almost like civilized human 
beings again.” 

They were treated by Mr. and Mrs. Ames as 
their friends and guests, and all the friendliness 
of the boys’ warm hearts came out in the sun- 
shine of this kindness. The evening passed 
away in pleasant chat. The boys discovered 
they had a common friend in a favorite teacher 
of their younger days, who proved to be a niece 
of Mr. Ames. They retired early, and slept the 
sleep of the tired, after their troubled rest of 
the previous night and very early rising that 
morning. As they estimated, they had come 
fourteen miles that day, and were now fifty- 
six miles from their starting-point. 


ON THE CONCORD. 


167 


CHAPTER XL 

ON THE CONCORD. 

'"T^HE next day dawned fair and bright. The 
boys arose much refreshed, open to all 
the inspiration of the lovely summer morning. 
Their kind hosts declined pay for their hos- 
pitality, and sped them on their way with many 
cordial good wishes. 

The boys enjoyed the exciting experience 
of going through the lock. Then they paddled 
swiftly down the canal, under bridge after 
bridge, the novel spectacle of a canoe attracting 
much attention, so that they received a con- 
tinued ovation of waving handkerchiefs from 
innumerable factory-girls as they sped by. 

The lock-keepers farther down the canal de- 
clined to put their locks in order for so small 
a craft as the “ Susan,” but were all obliging 
enough to help the boys with the portage. And 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


1 68 


about noon they found themselves floating on 
the waters of their third river, — the Concord. 

There could hardly have been a greater con- 
trast than the Concord offered to the other 
streams on which they had voyaged, — the 
sparkling, rushing, tumultuous Piscataquog, and 
the broad, dignified, commercially important 
Merrimac. 

The Indians, who certainly showed fully as 
good taste in naming rivers and localities as 
their pale-faced supplanters, called the Concord 
the “ Musketaquid,” which, being interpreted, 
means the “ Meadow, or Grass-ground ” river. 
It steals along with countless windings through 
swamp and meadow, whose rich soil blackens 
its waters, its current so imperceptible that 
Thoreau mentions a Concord legend to the 
effect that the only bridge ever carried away on 
its main branch “ was driven up-stream by the 
wind ! ” And Hawthorne says he actually lived 
three weeks on its margin before he was sure 
which way its current flowed. 

The boys had hard work getting up over 
two or three dams, which consumed much time, 
strength, and patience. But these obstacles 


OJV THE CONCORD. 


169 

surmounted, they found the Concord an ideal 
stream to ascend. Its sluggish current offered 
no resistance to their upward progress. There 
were no rocks, no rapids. Its dark, still waters 
reflected like a rain-mirror the blue sky, the 
white clouds drifting across it, the overhanging 
willows and alders festooned with wild grape- 
vines, nodding bulrush, waving flag-leaf, and 
crimson cardinal-flower. 

Through this pleasing landscape the “ Black- 
eyed Susan ” “ floated double, swan and shadow,” 
seeming suspended by some magic art between 
two worlds. Looking over the canoe’s side, the 
boys’ own jolly faces peered up at them from 
the depths below, as if some rollicking mermen 
mocked them by assuming their image. 

The Concord is called a capital stream for 
fishing,” said Herbert. “ I only wish the best 
half of my fish-pole had n’t gone over that 
dam. Ha ! did you see that big pickerel, Gif? 
He ’s a magnificent old fellow ! There ! he ’s 
just going under those lily-pads.” 

“ ‘ Hist ! That ’s a pike ! Look, — nose against the river ! 

Gaunt as a wolf, — the sly old privateer ! ’ ” 

quoted Gifford. 


170 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ ‘ Enter a gudgeon. Snap ! a gulp, a shiver. 

Exit the gudgeon. Let us anchor here,* 

and get some of these glorious blossoms for 
Aunt Senie,” said Herbert, leaping ashore. 

He strolled along, gathering here and there 
a handful of cardinal-flowers, white arrow-heads, 
a coarse but tall and showy wild coreopsis, 
and many other varieties of blossoms. When 
back in the canoe again, he selected the choicest 
specimens of each, and pressed them by the 
simple process of placing them in his journal 
and then sitting on the book. He and Giflbrd 
also stuck jaunty knots of the gay flowers in 
their hatbands, after the fashion so dear to the 
heart of Swiss and Italian drivers and postilions. 

And so they voyaged merrily up the en- 
chanted stream, feeling always the fascination 
of exploring an unknown region, never knowing 
what might be coming around the next bend 
of the river. From shady coves, wild ducks, 
startled at their silent approach, darted swiftly 
away to thicker coverts, and frightened king- 
fisher and heron flew from overhanging branches 
with shrill notes of alarm at this invasion. 
Toward noon, Gifford, who w§is exploring along 


ON THE CONCORD. 


171 


the shore, while Herbert paddled slowly on, 
announced : — 

“Bert, the huckleberries are ripe, and these 
grassy hillocks over here are covered with 
bushes.” 

Herbert leaped ashore, and before long they 
had a hatful of the black, shining berries. 
Then they paddled more briskly, on the look- 
out for some farm-house where they might dine. 
But no house appeared ; on each side of the 
river were only wide stretches* of swampy mead- 
ows or pine woods. Upon the crackers, which 
they always kept on board for emergencies, they 
were now fain to dine, only too thankful for the 
huckleberries. They filled their drinking-cups 
from a clear little rill which came purling into 
the Concord, its waters deriving, liie boys fan- 
cied, a certain agreeable aromatic flavor from 
the hemlock roots among and around which it 
wound. 

“ Keep up good heart, Bert,” said Gifford, as 
he saw Herbert washing down the dry cracker 
with big draughts of water, his face wearing an 
expression of disgust. “ We shall reach Billerica 
to-day, I ’m sure ; and then for a square meal.” 


172 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


The quicker we strike it the better/’ said 
Herbert. “ A man can sustain life for a while 
on crackers, but I don’t want to carry the experi- 
ment too far. Let ’s aboard and off, as fast as 
we can. Those clouds yonder look squally.” 

The boys now stopped no more in dallyings 
by the way, but paddled rapidly on up-stream. 
The gathering clouds, however, outsped them, 
and soon the placid waters of the Concord were 
dimpled by the lively pattering of innumerable 
raindrops. The boys protected their luggage 
with the rubber blanket, and sped on in the 
driving rain, sustained by the hope of soon 
coming to friendly shelter and a good supper, 
of which they sorely felt the need. 

They had met with so much kindly hospitality 
along their route, and were conscious themselves 
of deserving so well, and feeling so friendly to 
the world generally, that they had no expecta- 
tion of meeting rebuffs. But they had yet to 
learn Tkat there are “people and people ” in 
the world. 

At North Billerica they encountered a dam. 
In the pouring rain they tugged and lifted the 
“ Susan ” over a banking into the canal, and 


ON THE CONCORD. 


173 


paddled around into the river again. And now, 
at last, they saw with joy a few houses ahead. 
Here was the coveted stopping- place for the 
night. 

Securing the canoe in a cove thickly sheltered 
with bushes, they shouldered their luggage, and 
confidently approached the nearest house. To 
tell the truth, the boys hardly realized the shab- 
biness of their array, which had been gradually 
increasing under the vicissitudes of the trip. 
Their knickerbockers had long since given out, 
and they now wore the old patched trousers 
provided as reserves by their mothers’ foresight. 
Gifford had been so unfortunate as to slit one 
leg of his trousers up half-way to his knee. 
This, and the fact of his wearing one shoe and 
one slipper, added to the general impression his 
appearance would naturally make on a super- 
ficial observer, who should judge solely by the 
outer man. Sunburnt and tanned, their rough 
clothes worn and faded, their shapeless hats still 
bedizened with the knots of faded flowers, per- 
haps it is no wonder that the woman who opened 
the door and beheld these two forms with their 
packs on their backs, dripping before her in the 


174 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


rain, started in evident dismay, and in response 
to the formula recited glibly by Gifford, an- 
swered emphatically, — 

“No, I can’t keep you. I don’t take in no 
strangers. You can get in over there, I guess,” 
she added, pointing to a small shanty across the 
road. 

She slammed the door in their faces, without 
giving them time for further inquiries, and was 
heard vigorously to lock it. 

“ She don’t seem impressed with our beauty,’* 
said Herbert, grimly, not relishing this rebuff, 
but somewhat sustained by his sense of fun, and 
the feeling of their being, in a way, princes in 
disguise, meeting the usual fate of such princes 
in all well-regulated fairy-tales. 

“ Let ’s look up this place she recommends,” 
said Gifford. 

But the house across the road proved to be 
occupied by negroes, of apparently a low-down 
sort. One more house remained to be tried. 
Here they found an old couple living, who re- 
garded them with even greater suspicion than 
their first friend. It was now Herbert’s turn to 
repeat the formula. 


ON THE CONCORD. 


175 


“ No,” Said the old lady, promptly, “ you 
can’t stay here. We don’t know who you be. 
There ’s been lots of tramps around here lately. 
Father and I are old folks, and we ’ve got to 
look out for ourselves. You can’t stop here.” 

“ May we sleep in your barn, then?” asked 
Gifford. 

No, sir ! ” said the old gentleman, emphati- 
cally. “ There was a barn burned in town less 
than a week ago. Folks thought likely some 
tramps went in there to sleep and set it on fire 
with their dirty pipes. No, sir ! I won’t have 
no tramps in my barn if I know it.” 

And the old gentleman closed his door and 
retired within his fortress. 

The boys turned slowly away in the pouring 
rain and walked back for a second look at the 
negro hut. If only it had not rained, they 
would cheerfully have camped beside the Con- 
cord, and “ taken dints from naebody.” It is 
not too much to say that Herbert was home- 
sick; while some thoughts of how his mother 
would feel if she could see her boy just then, 
tired, hungry, wet, refused a night’s shelter, 
crossed Gifford’s mind. 


1/6 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Not even the direst necessity could make the 
negro hut tolerable. Gifford’s spirit rose to the 
occasion. 

“ I tell you what it is, Bert,” he said, '' the 
only thing we can do is to go back to those old 
people and make them take us in. We must 
just talk them right into it. Keep up a brisk 
talk. Don’t give them a chance to remonstrate. 
If I stop, you strike right in.” 

‘‘ I pity them ! ” said Herbert. “ If they knew 
you as well as I do, they would yield at once, 
and save further trouble. Here goes, then, for a 
combined attack on the enemy’s fortress.” 

They returned to the house, where the old 
people were felicitating themselves on having 
so nicely got rid of them two tramps.” 

The boys had resolved, if the door were 
opened but an inch, to wedge themselves in 
through that inch, and, once in, they were there 
to stay. 

In response to their knock, the old gentleman 
cautiously opened the door and peered out. 
The boys pressed themselves gently but firmly 
through the crack thus offered, gradually in- 
sinuating themselves into the room. 


ON THE CONCORD. 


177 


Gififord, in his best society manner, which 
consorted so oddly with his looks that Herbert 
had difficulty in suppressing his inclination to 
laugh, said : — 

Madam, we are not tramps, as you evi- 
dently think. We are two Boston boys on a 
canoe trip. We’ve been out some time, and of 
course, under the circumstances, we can’t help 
looking rather seedy ; but I assure you, we 
are really most respectable persons. Why, my 
friend here is an Osborne, — an Osborne of 
Roxbury ! Surely you must have heard of the 
Osbornes of Roxbury?” 

Herbert, trying to assume an air appropri- 
ate to his noble lineage, and not to giggle, burst 
in before the old couple had time to draw 
breath, — 

And this young man is a King. King is a 
good old Boston name. You must know of the 
Kings.” 

The old lady had heard of the Kings, and was 
considerably impressed ; but before she could 
say anything, a happy thought struck Gifford. 

“Herbert,” he said, “where is that notice from 
the Manchester ‘ Mirror ’ ? ” 


12 


178 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Herbert handed a crumpled piece of paper to 
the old gentleman, who slowly drew out and 
put on his “ specs,” and began to read this in- 
dorsement with a solemnity befitting the im- 
portance of the occasion, while the boys kept 
up a rattling conversation wdth, or rather at, 
his wife. 

‘‘Well,” said the old gentleman, somewhat 
convinced because he had “ seen it in print,” 
slowly removing his glasses, folding and re- 
turning the paper, “ if I knew you were the 
fellers — ” 

“Why, of course we are,” said Gifford. “I 
can take you right down to the river and show 
you the very canoe.” 

“ Father,” said the old lady, “ the boys look 
to me like good boys. I guess you ’d better 
let ’em sleep in the barn to-night. I don’t be- 
lieve they’ll do any mischief. We should feel 
pretty bad to have our John turned out of doors 
such a night as this.” 

The boys felt like embracing the dear old 
lady on the spot, but refrained, and, escorted 
rather reluctantly by her husband, went out to 
the barn. His suspicions were evidently not 


ON THE CONCORD. 


179 


wholly laid, and he cheered the boys’ spirits by 
such dark hints as these, casually thrown out : 

“ I Ve got a revolver and a gun, and I ain’t 
afraid to use ’em, either. Always keep ’em 
loaded, I ’d just as soon shoot a tramp as 
not, if he came hanging round my house at 
night ; ” and so on. 

He returned to the house, and the boys 
made a weary but rather ineffectual attempt to 
satisfy their hungry cravings with crackers. 

“ Do you know. Gif,” said Herbert, as the 
wind howled around the barn, and the rain 
pelted against it, “ I had all I could do to keep 
from laughing when you brought out our noble 
lineage ! It reminded me of : ^ 

* Saint Patrick was a gentleman, 

Who came of decent people ; 

He built a church in Dublin town, 

And on it put a steeple. 

His father was a Gallagher ; 

His mother was a Brady; 

His aunt was an O’Shaughnessy, 

His uncle an O’ Grady.’ ” 

Here he was interrupted by the reappear- 
ance of the old gentleman, bearing a large, old- 
fashioned mug full of milk, and some cakes. 


i8o 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Here ’s a mug of milk, and a cake apiece,’* 
he said shortly, and departed. 

The boys felt that the old lady’s heart was 
softening toward them. The milk and cakes 
were a most welcome addition to their meagre 
supper. In somewhat better cheer, they climbed 
the hay-mow, rolled up in their blankets, and 
were soon sound asleep, lulled rather than dis- 
turbed by the pounding of the rain on the roof 
close over their heads. If now and then a drop 
spattered through the cracks and fell on their 
faces, they knew it n£>t. 

They had made only five miles that day, hav- 
ing now paddled sixty-one miles, as nearly as 
they could judge, from Francestown. 


CLASSIC GROUND. 


8i 


CHAPTER XII. 

CLASSIC GROUND. 

C OMETH sunshine after rain,” had always 
been the boys’ experience ; so they were 
not surprised the next morning at the radiant 
sunlight which greeted their waking eyes, 
streaming in long, dusty rays through every 
crack and knot-hole of the old barn. They 
clambered down from their lofty bed, to find 
the old gentleman on the lookout for them. ^ 

He had been so relieved, on awaking, to find 
all well, his barn unburned, his house unrobbed, 
his throat whole and sound, that he now felt 
quite cordial toward his unwelcome guests, while 
his wife was free to tell him : — 

“ I told you so ; I knew them was good boys. 
They’ve got real good, honest faces.” 

Come into the house,” he said. My wife 
wants to give you some breakfast before you 
set out.” 


i 82 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


The boys could not afford to be proud, and 
reject this late-coming kindness with proper 
scorn. On the contrary, they accepted the 
invitation only too gladly, and enjoyed the 
baked potatoes, codfish cream, and hot coffee 
with such vigorous appetites as only a long 
course of canoeing and crackers can induce. 

The old gentleman, a little ashamed of his 
groundless suspicions perhaps, stoutly refused 
to receive any pay for his hospitality; and 
the boys departed, feeling more lenient toward 
North Billerica than they would have thought 
possible the previous evening. They found the 
canoe safe, and set off for Concord in high 
spirits. 

After planning their canoe trip, the boys had 
tried hard to read Thoreau’s A Week on the 
Concord and Merrimac Rivers,’^ but had found 
the philosophy interwoven with the book’s 
charming descriptions too deep and too steep 
for them to grapple with. Still, they were both 
well aware that they were entering classic ter- 
ritory, and that of no river in the country has 
so much been sung and written as of the Con- 
cord. As Gifford phrased it : — 


CLASSIC GROUND. 


183 


“ There ’s been a deal of high thinking done 
on and about the Concord. No wonder it 
steals along so darkly and solemnly, unlike 
other streams, as if it realized itself to be as fa- 
mous, in its way, as the Arno or the Tiber.” 

“Yes,” said Herbert; “it's a sort of liberal 
education to paddle up it. We shall imbibe 
wisdom from the very air here, I suppose. 
Even Aunt Senie ought to treat me with a 
decent degree of respect after this.” 

And so, refreshed by their night’s sleep and 
the good breakfast, animated by the fair 
morning, and full of anticipations of the day’s 
experiences, the boys paddled gayly on, their 
progress somewhat impeded, however, by a 
strong head-wind. At noon they lunched on a 
beautiful island, densely wooded, its trees fes- 
tooned with wild grape-vines. 

Late in the afternoon, when the tree-shadows 
lay long across the green meadows, and a subtle 
coolness and dampness began to rise from field 
and river, they descried, not without a thrill of 
excitement, the spires of Concord village rising 
from thick clusters of elms and maples, far off 
to the southwest. 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


184 


“ We should have time to paddle on an hour 
or two longer to-night,” said Gifford, “ if we 
chose.” 

“ Oh, it would never do to pass Concord ! ” 
said Herbert. “ I could never look Aunt 
Asenath or Marion in the face again if I were 
capable of such a thing ! Besides, I really want 
to look about the famous old place myself.” 

‘‘ So do I, of course,” said Gifford. 

Soon the winding river brought them into the 
famous port of Concord. Securing the canoe 
near the statue of the Minute-Man, and de- 
positing their effects in a small house near by, 
where they also engaged supper, they went first 
to the post-office, and then rambled about the 
town, gazing with boyish reverence and enthu- 
siasm on the roofs that had sheltered the seers, 
the poets, the helpers, the exponents of “ plain 
living and high thinking.” 

Passing the Alcott homestead, they half ex- 
pected to meet some of the “ Little Women ” 
or “Jo’s Boys.” They entered Sleepy Hollow 
Cemetery as the sun was setting. The hour, 
the place, and its associations all disposed them 
to reverent silence as they walked in the waning 


CLASSIC GROUND. 


185 


light under the solemn arches of the trees, and 
stood beside the graves of Emerson, Thoreau, 
Hawthorne, the Alcotts, while the evening wind 
sighed through the great pines as if lamenting 
the vanished ones. 

But as young natures react quickly, by the 
time they had returned to the canoe and eateq 
supper, all melancholy impressions were for- 
gotten, and they discussed their plans for the 
night in their usual lively mood. 

The evening was clear and still, every gleam- 
ing star overhead mirrored in the dark waters of 
the Concord. 

“ I ’m in favor of camping out right where 
we are,” said Herbert. 

“It’s going to be pretty cool to-night,” said 
Gifford. 

“ Oh, we shall be warm enough under our 
blankets ! ” urged Herbert. “ And it will be 
something to tell of, — that we camped on the 
old Concord battle-ground.” 

“Yes, and worth remembering too. We 
can tell it to our grandchildren,” said Gifford. 
“ Camp it is, then.” 

They spread their rubber blanket on the 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


1 86 


ground, smooth and slippery with pine needles, 
under some grand old pines near the Minute- 
Man, rolled themselves up in their woollen 
blankets, and composed themselves to sleep. 

It being a public place, they half expected 
they should be disturbed before morning. But 
Concord seemed to be as quiet a place as its 
name implies. Their only disturbance was 
from a pair of lovers, who, rambling along, ob- 
livious of the outside world, stumbled over their 
prostrate forms. It is safe to say they were 
more startled than the boys. 

As they hurried away, Herbert nudged Gif- 
ford, murmuring, — 

“ He said soft, soft things to her, 

Down by the salt, salt sea.” 

“ Do hush, Bert ! ” growled Gifford. “ Shut 
up, and let ’s go to sleep, if we can. I ’m 
tired.” 

“I’m tired enough,” said Herbert; “but I 
believe I never felt so wide awake in my life.” 

In fact, fatigue with him took the form of 
intense nervous excitement, stimulated by all 
the ideas and suggestions of the day, and their 
surroundings. 


CLASSIC GROUND. 


187 


In the starlight, the dark form of the Minute- 
Man loomed dimly up, keeping silent watch and 
ward over the quiet spot, a hundred years ago 
and more the scene of such a bloody conflict. 
Herbert’s excited imagination pictured it all, — 
resounding musketry, surging passions, the bit- 
ter struggle, wounds, groans, death. The wind, 
which had blown so strongly all day, now 
surged and moaned mournfully through the 
pines overhead. 

Herbert may not have .read of the vision 
Hosea Biglow describes as seen here one night 
by Concord Bridge : — 

“ Las’ night 

The British sogers killed in our gret fight 
(Nigh fifty year they hed n’t stirred nor spoke) 

Made sech a coil you ’d thought a dam hed broke : 
Why, one he up an’ beat a revellee 
With his own crossbones on a holler tree, 

Till all the graveyards swarmed out like a hive 
With faces I hain’t seen sence Seventy-five.” 

But the appearance of dim ghostly figures in revo- 
lutionary uniform gliding out from behind the 
black tree-trunks would hardly have surprised 
him. He rolled and tossed, and thought of every- 
thing under the sun. Finally he broke out, — 


i88 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ Say, Gif, how do those verses go that you 
used to speak at school? The — the — ah yes, I 
have it : — 

‘ Here once the embattled farmers stood. 

And fired the shot heard round the world.’ 

Here, right here, mind you. Gif! ” 

“ ’Sh I ” muttered Gififord, almost asleep. 

“ Oh, you want the second verse too, do you ? ’» 
said Herbert, spouting on : — 

“ ‘ The foe long since in silence slept ; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ; 

And Time the ruined bridge has swept — ’ ” 

“ This is intolerable ! ” cried Gififord, rolling 
over impatiently. 

“ Intolerable I Why, it ’s always been con- 
sidered very fine,” retorted Herbert. “ I ’m 
surprised you don’t admire it.” 

Here the strange, weird cry of an owl re- 
sounded through the silence of the night. 

“ Ha! ” cried Herbert; “ an owl. 

‘Alone, and warming his five wits, 

The white owl in the belfry sits.’ ” 

His active brain was at its keenest, and he felt 
as If he could go on talking all night, if only 
Gififord would not be so perversely stupid. 


CLASSIC GROUND. 


189 

Gifford, however, was now thoroughly aroused. 
“ Herbert ! ” he exclaimed, in his most deter- 
mined tones ; “ there ’ll be another Concord fight 
on this old battle-ground in about five minutes, 
if you don’t close that mouth of yours and let 
me sleep. The shot may not be ‘ heard round 
the world,’ but there’ll be a big splash in the 
‘ dark stream ’ that will wake up all the musk- 
rats and mud-turtles. I’ll cool, off your enthu- 
siasm, if you don’t quit ! ” 

“ Of course there would be owls in Concord,” 
continued Herbert placidly, unmindful of this 
gentle hint, — “Minerva’s bird; I presume the 
Concord girls keep them in cages, instead of 
parrots. I know a — ” 

“ I mean what I say ! ” cried the exasperated 
Gifford, rising up grimly in the darkness, and 
laying strong hold of Herbert. 

“ Quits ! quits ! ” cried Herbert, aware that Gif- 
ford was more than a match for him. “ I ’ll hush 
my burning brain, and bid its ravings cease ! ” 

“ You ’d best, or I ’ll soon cool it for you in 
the river, I promise you ! ” said Gifford emphati- 
cally, as he rolled over, and composed himself 
again to sleep. 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


190 


“ Concord air ’s too much for me/^ Herbert 
could not resist muttering. 

But in spite of it, the soughing of the pines 
finally lulled him also to sleep ; and if any ghosts 
walked on Concord battle-ground that night, 
they were unseen by him. 

Their day’s record was ten miles, — making 
seventy-one miles in all. 


UP THE SUDBURY. 


191 


CHAPTER XIII. 

UP THE SUDBURY. 

' I ^HE boys' slept poorly, half conscious all 
^ night that it was cold, and that their 
blankets were too thin. They were glad when 
the sonorous crowing of Concord cocks all 
around, far and near, announced the gray dawn 
of another day. They were up when the first 
red rays of the rising sun struck the Minute- 
Man, and ready for breakfast before it was 
ready for them. 

They spent the time, while waiting for break- 
fast, in examining Daniel Frenches spirited statue, 
which was erected April 19, 1875, on the one 
hundredth anniversary of the battle. An old 
man who was passing, seeing that they were 
strangers, stopped to talk awhile, and gave 
them some interesting details of the erection of 
the statue. 


192 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


One Ebenezer Hubbard, a Concord farmer, 
whose character must have had a vein of rug- 
ged originality and independence worthy the 
townsman of Emerson and Thoreau, inherited 
the land in the village whereon the British 
troops had committed depredations. He never 
failed to hoist there the stars and stripes every 
19th of April and 4th of July. He was deeply 
grieved that the monument erected by the town 
in 1836 should mark the position occupied by 
the enemy, instead of the defenders in the fight ; 
and when he died he left by will a sum of money 
to the town to erect a monument on the very 
spot where the minute-men and militia had stood, 
and also to maintain a bridge forever on the site 
of the old bridge around which the fight had 
raged. So to Ebenezer Hubbard’s sturdy pa- 
triotism Concord owes this fine memorial, the 
Minute-Man. 

After breakfast, the boys turned their backs 
on their historic camping-ground and plied their 
paddles up the Concord. Although the sun 
was bright and warm, there was an undertone of 
coolness in the air that hinted of the approach- 
ing autumn; so did the spires of golden-rod 


UP THE SUDBURY. 


193 


nodding thickly along the grassy uplands, and 
the vivid red and yellow of too precocious bushes 
here and there in the swamps. 

“ Just the day for canoeing,” said Gifford. 

“ Yes,” said Herbert; “ I ’m right on deck for 
business this morning, and that paddle of yours 
will have to fly if it keeps pace with mine.” 

“ If the stern of this canoe does n’t keep up 
with the bow, you let me know it,” said Gifford. 

The boys paddled up-stream, past the mouth 
of the Assabet, and came into the upper part 
of the river, known as the Sudbury. The Sud- 
bury’s course lies through wide, low meadows. 
Often the rank-growing grass along the shores 
shut out all view beyond from the boys, sitting 
low in their canoe, and gave them an agreeable 
sense of remoteness from civilization. 

“ We might be two of the original Indians 
paddling up this stream in our birch-bark 
canoe,” remarked Herbert. 

“ You certainly look like an original Indian,” 
said Gifford, looking laughingly at Herbert’s 
well-tanned face. 

The water in the Sudbury was low, so low 
that often it was difficult getting through the 


194 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


tangle of long, grassy weeds that covered the 
bottom, and twined their slimy arms around 
the ‘‘ Susan’s ” prow. Sometimes, indeed, the 
river oozed away over the flats and lost itself 
among the reeds and cut-grass. It was almost 
impossible to keep the main channel, and once 
the boys actually lost their way, and brought 
up standing in a sedgy cove. They agreed this 
was the most peculiar stream of all upon which 
they had voyaged. 

“ Longfellow’s ‘ Wayside Inn ’ was in Sud- 
bury,” remarked Giflbrd ; so mother said, when 
we were planning our route.” 

“ There does n’t seem to be any wayside or 
waterside inn along this brooklet, streamlet, 
rivulet, creek-u-let, or whatever-you-call-et,” said 
Herbert. “ I ’m not particular ; I ’d just as soon 
stop at Longfellow’s Inn as any other, if it 
would only put in an appearance.” 

No inn did they come to, however, and they 
were only too glad to dine at a farm-house on 
royal bowls of bread and milk, which keen 
hunger made delicious. 

In the afternoon, having reached what they 
judged to be the nearest point to Wayland 


UP THE SUDBURY, 


195 


village, they secured the canoe, and walked up 
to the post-office. Having found no letters at 
Concord, they felt quite sure of some here. 

Alas, not a letter was there for them ! This 
was a great disappointment. Both boys felt a 
little depressed. The trip had lost the charm 
of novelty, their funds were running low, and 
they began to find it difficult to rise above ap- 
pearances, and not feel like the tramps they 
looked. Home began to seem very attractive. 
Then, too, this was Saturday, — Saturday after- 
noon, — and they had no idea where they should 
spend either the night or the coming Sunday. 

As they slowly returned to the canoe in 
solemn silence, Gifford divined Herbert’s prob- 
able musings, not only by the unusual length 
and sobriety of that jolly young gentleman’s 
visage, and the ominous silence of his lively 
tongue, but also by his own feelings, and re- 
alized that it behooved him, as the older, to 
cheer his comrade. 

No news is always good news, you know, 
Bert. Probably they have underrated our pro- 
gress, and did not expect us to reach Wayland 


so soon. 


196 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ I think it more likely,” growled Herbert, 
“that, though ‘lost to sight,’ we’re not ‘to 
memory dear.’ They ’re simply glad to be rid 
of us, and don’t care what becomes of us.” 

“Nonsense! You know better than that, 
Bert.” 

“ Bessie is probably too much absorbed in flirt- 
ing with that fascinating Freshman she wrote 
about, to remember to write,” said Herbert. 
“ Not that I care whether she writes to me 
or not. It’s a pleasant outlook for Sunday, 
isn’t it?*’ 

“ Oh, we shall come out all right I Something 
will turn up in our favor yet, Mr. Micawber. 
We’ll paddle on up-stream till dark, or until 
we strike a good stopping-place. We shall get 
along somehow, see if we don’t. We always 
have, you know.” 

“ Yes, but this ‘ getting along somehow ’ is 
growing rather monotonous. However, there ’s 
nothing to be done, I suppose, but to go on, 
and trust to luck.” 

They paddled on, without, however, coming to 
any place of shelter for the night The sun set, 
the evening star shone out, the twittering birds 


UP THE SUDBURY. 


197 


flew homeward to their nests, the lonely evening 
wind rustled through the long grass, and still no 
lodging-place. Through the darkness they could 
dimly perceive that the right bank of the stream 
rose up quite high above their heads, — higher 
than at any point they had passed that day. 

“ Bert,” said Gifford, “ this looks like a high 
and dry spot. We may as well camp here over- 
night, and try for better luck to-morrow by 
daylight. It’s too late to go any farther.” 

“ This is ‘ getting along somehow,’ ” was Her- 
bert’s only reply, as he stepped out of the canoe, 
which they contrived to draw far enough up on 
the land to insure its safety for the night. They 
took the paddles with them, and having, after 
much fumbling about, managed to find the bag 
of crackers, they forced down enough to par- 
tially satisfy the cravings of hunger, and then 
rolled up in their blankets for the night. 

“ The grass seems remarkably nice and long 
here,” remarked Gifford. “ It makes a soft bed.” 

“ Glad you see it in that light ! Well, let us 
be thankful for any ‘ marcies,’ ” said Herbert. 

They had come nine miles that day, — eighty 
in all. 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


198 


Sunday morning dawned bright, still, and 
peaceful, a typical New England Sunday, es- 
pecially in the remote field where the boys had 
passed the night. They had but half slept all 
night, it being too cold to allow them to forget 
the hardness of the ground, and consequently 
they had rolled and tumbled about more rest- 
lessly than usual. To their dismay, they found 
on rising that they had made their bed among 
some wheat, and in their uneasy tossings had 
ruined a large patch of it. 

This is a shame ! ” said Gifford. The 
owner will be furious when he sees it.” 

Let ’s pay him for the damage,” said 
Herbert. 

“ How can we ? We don’t know who he is.” 

Why, on the principle of the ‘ ginger jar.’ 
I ’ll soon show you.” 

Herbert found a large flat stone, which he 
placed conspicuously in the centre of the 
crushed patch. On the stone he laid a quar- 
ter of a dollar. Then, tearing a leaf from the 
“ log,” he scribbled on it these lines : — 

“ We lay this quarter at your feet, 

Kind sir, for sleeping on your wheat.’* 


UP THE SUDBURY. 


199 


Placing the paper on the stone, under the 
quarter, Herbert contemplated the arrangement 
with much satisfaction. - 

“There!” he said. “The owner will natu- 
rally walk out Sunday to gloat over his wheat- 
field, and if he is half a man, that ought to 
satisfy him.” 

“ I should say so ! ” exclaimed Gifford. “ A 
quarter of a dollar, and an original poem thrown 
in 1 Our consciences can certainly rest easy 
now.” 

The boys now embarked, and paddled on, 
keeping a keen lookout for some place where 
they could rest over Sunday. At last they came 
to a pleasant-looking farm-house, not far from 
the river-bank. Fastening the “ Susan,” — as 
they hoped until Monday morning, — they ap- 
proached this house. They were by this time 
so weary of their formula that they usually 
flipped up a penny to see which should repeat 
it. This time the lot fell to Gifford. He ad- 
dressed himself to a small boy hanging on the 
front gate, saying, — 

“We are canoeists. We are paddling up the 
river, stopping at farm-houses. We can pay 


200 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


our way. We would like to stay here over 
Sunday.” 

“ I dunno whether you can stay here or 
not,” replied the boy, doubtfully. ‘‘You’ll 
have to ask father. Here he comes, now.” 

The father, seeing his boy talking with such 
dubious-looking strangers, came out to see 
what was wanted. He was a tall, good-look- 
ing Irishman. He did not seem favorably 
impressed with his would-be guests, and lis- 
tened to their moving tale unmoved, saying 
frankly : — 

“ It ’s a foine story ye tell, but a moighty 
improbable one, I ’m thinking. I never hap- 
pened to see any Boston young gintlemen com- 
ing around Sundays looking like this. I can’t 
harbor ye. I heard only yesterday evenin’ that 
some fellows had escaped from the Reform 
School over here in Framingham, and ye look 
moightily to me like ye moight be two of ’em. 
Perhaps ye came honestly by that boat, but I 
doubt it. Go into the house, Tim,” he said 
sharply to the boy, as if fearing he might be 
contaminated by such associates. 

This was disgusting enough. But the case 


UP THE SUDBURY. 


201 


was desperate. They must somehow convince 
him of their respectability. A bright idea 
struck Herbert. Thrusting his hand in his 
pocket, he drew out a tooth-brush. 

“ See here,” he said. Did you ever know 
tramps to carry tooth-brushes? ” 

This was too much for the Irishman’s native 
sense of humor. He laughed, and said, — 

“ Come along in wid ye, and git some break- 
fast. I ’ll give ye a thrial, anyway.” 

The boys cheerfully followed him into the 
large kitchen, where an innumerable family of 
young folks were about sitting down to break- 
fast. 

Mr. Quin carried on a large dairy, sending 
his milk to Boston. He belonged to the best 
class of Irish, — thrifty, industrious, shrewd, sen- 
sible, and witty. When, later in the morning, he 
happened to see a notice in his Lowell paper 
that the boys had passed there a day or two 
earlier, a notice fully corroborating their story, 
he was only too happy to lay aside his last 
lingering doubt, and treat them with the hearty 
kindness natural to him. 

The boys enjoyed themselves very much 


202 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


with the Quins, big and little, and indeed struck 
up a hearty friendship which resulted in more 
than one visit there afterward, on hunting and 
fishing excursions. They loafed and rested 
all day, thoroughly enjoying their well-earned 
repose. 


THE PAPER-MILL. 


203 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE PAPER-MILL. 

E arly Monday morning young Jim Quin 
had his father’s wagon at the door, 
ready to take canoe and canoeists across the 
intervale lying between the Sudbury and Lake 
Cochituate. 

A row of Quins of assorted sizes stood 
around the front gate to see them off, and amid 
a rattling fire of, “ Good-by ! Good-by ! Luck 
go wid ye ! Come again ! ” the boys drove off, 
waving their hats in final farewell as they disap- 
peared around a bend in the road. 

The morning was gray, promising rain. The 
boys were in good spirits, however, fresh and 
strong after their Sunday’s rest, happy because 
their trip was so near completion, because it 
w^as morning and they were off again, but 
chiefly because they were young and could n’t 
help it. 


204 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


They much enjoyed letting themselves out 
at full speed on the lake’s broad expanse, after 
their late struggle with the weed-entangled 
Sudbury, and dashed along with vigorous 
sweeps of their paddles through the series of 
lakes connected by sluice-ways. 

Presently the lake’s smooth surface began to 
dimple with pattering raindrops from the dark 
clouds overhead. This was the first of a series 
of driving showers, following one another all 
day, with brief intervals of watery sunshine, 
which, instead of encouraging him, reminded 
Gifford of Bridget’s favorite weather prediction, 

“ Open and shet, 

A sign of more wet.” 

The boys, however, having by this time a 
cheerful confidence that they were neither su- 
gar nor salt, paddled swiftly on, rather enjoying 
their own indifference to the weather’s freaks. 

At South Natick they landed, and sought an 
express-wagon to carry the “ Black - eyed- 
Susan” over another intervale into the Charles 
River. 

They soon learned that one Hiram Bemus 
was the man for this business. Hiram was 


THE PAPER-MILL. 


205 


readily found. He proved to be a tall, lean 
man, evidently a Yankee of the Yankees, close- 
ness, caution, and calculation written all over his 
weather-beaten countenance. 

After hearing their request, he replied 
slowly, — 

“ Waal, I dunno ’bout it. I ain’t over busy 
jest now, and I can haul you two fellers and 
your boat over to the Charles easy enough 
in my big wagon. I’ll do it for — lemme 
see, — waal, I ’ll do it for a dollar and a half. 
Reckon that goes a leetle beyond your pile, 
eh? ” he added, scanning their worn clothes with 
a disparaging look. 

“ Can you change a five, Mr. Bemus? ” asked 
Gifford, producing a five-dollar bill in a non- 
chalant manner intended to impress Mr. Bemus. 
But Mr. Bemus was impressed in the wrong 
way. He eyed both the bill and Gifford with 
evident suspicion. 

“ No“0,” he said slowly, shaking his head. 
“ I can ’t change no bills. I guess likely you 
can git that bill changed somewhere round 
here.” 

He stood with his hands in his pockets and 


206 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


an air of indifference, while Gifford went about 
to several stores near by, trying to change the 
bill. To his disgust, his shabby clothes quite 
outweighed his honest face and gentlemanly 
bearing, and the cautious shopkeepers failed 
to see how an apparent tramp could have 
honestly come by a five-dollar bill. 

We may please ourselves by fancying that, — 

“ Worth makes the man, the want of it the fellow. 
And all the rest ’s but leather and prunella ; ” 

but as the world is now constituted, “ leather 
and prunella ” play an important part. “ Dress 
do make a difference, David ; ” and so Gifford 
found it. 

At last an apparently unscrupulous saloon- 
keeper changed the bill, the suspicious Hiram 
was paid in advance, and the boys embarked 
on another stream of many associations, the 
Charles, which winds gently down through 
green meadow-lands by Mt. Auburn, through 
Cambridge, past the homes of Lowell and 
Longfellow, to the sea. 

^‘We’re on classic waters again,” said Gifford, 
as they paddled off down the Charles. 


THE PAPER-MILL, 


207 


“I know it,” said Herbert. “You can’t throw 
a stone in this region without danger of hitting 
a poet, — at any rate, a magazine contributor.” 

“ I only hope the literary atmosphere won’t 
go to your brain again,” said Gifford. “ I 
have n’t forgotten our night in Concord.” 

“ I ’ll put a cold-water bandage around my 
head if I feel any symptoms,” said Herbert. 
“ That is one of Aunt Asenath’s most approved 
remedies for anything, from a cold in the head 
to brain fever.” 

This precaution proved quite unnecessary, as 
their view of the landscape along the Charles 
was soon shut off by the pouring rain, which 
now set steadily in. Ere long Herbert’s hat 
was sufficiently soaked to answer every purpose 
of a wet bandage. The shores were dimly seen 
through gray sheets of driving rain. When, 
late in the afternoon, they reached the small 
group of houses clustered around a paper-mill, 
known as Charles River Village, they were not 
slow in deciding that it was best to stop here 
for the night. 

They entered the paper-mill, thinking they 
might here find shelter from the storm, and 


2o8 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


were thus hospitably welcomed by two men at 
work there : — 

“ Come along in, and shet the door after 
you, can’t you? Don’t you see the rain’s a 
drivin’ in?” 

The boys found the glow of the furnace fires 
most agreeable to their wet, chilled bodies. As 
they stood drying their dripping clothes, Gifford 
inquired if they might spend the night in the 
mill. 

Oh, yes,” said the man who seemed at the 
head of affairs. We keep open all night, and 
men on the road often stop here overnight.” 

Evidently he, like every one else, took them 
for tramps. They bought supper at a house 
near by. Later in the evening they seemed to 
rise in the estimation of their host, and he ap- 
peared to find something in them superior to 
the ordinary run of tramps, for he invited them 
into an adjoining room, saying, — 

“ Come in here. I guess I can get you a bed 
on the rags.” 

But a sharp-eyed, sharp-featured woman, who 
seemed the presiding genius of this room, turned 
quickly at the sound of their footsteps, and with 


THE PAPER-MILL, 


209 


an angry frown at the boys, exclaimed in shrill 
tones : — 

'‘Now, Bill Swan, you kin jest take your 
tramps right out o’ here. I won’t have ’em 
here spoilin’ my rags with their dirty clothes, 
and like ’s not settin’ the mill on fire. I won’t 
have ’em here, and that ’s the end on ’t.” 

Evidently woman’s rights prevailed in that 
paper-mill. Bill meekly and hastily retreated, 
followed by the boys. Bill showed them a pile 
of paper clippings in one corner where they 
could sleep. As they knew nothing of the mill- 
hands, nor in what sort of company they were 
about to sleep, before they camped on the paper 
clippings for the night the boys judged it pru- 
dent to hide their money. So, slipping out- 
doors, they stealthily buried it under the edge 
of a convenient brick-pile, where it would keep 
dry, and where they could easily find it again 
the next morning. 

“ It would n’t make a man a millionnaire if he 
should find that purse,” said Herbert. 

“ No,” said Gifford, “ but it would be mighty 
inconvenient for us, all the same.” 

On the whole, Charles River Village seemed 
14 


210 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


to them rather a cheerless place, as they lay 
down upon the paper clippings. 

“ What ’s the use of wrestling with fate ! ” ex- 
claimed Herbert. “ We might as well give in 
and be tramps, and done with it. I feel capable 
of robbing a hen-roost this minute.” 

This is n’t over jolly,” said Gifford, “ but it 
might be worse. Fancy having to camp out- 
doors such a night as this. We ought to be 
thankful for such a warm, cosey place to sleep, 
and a roof over our head.” 

“ I am thankful,” said Herbert. “ Did n’t I 
tell you I had given up, and was going to let 
fate trample on me all it pleases, without a 
struggle? Another thing I’m thankful for, 
though, is that we’re nine miles nearer home 
to-night.” 

“ Well,” said Gifford, let ’s go to sleep if we 
can, and be ready for a good pull to-morrow.” 

The boys soon fell asleep, in spite of the 
lack of luxury in their accommodations, but 
about one o’clock were wakened by loud, angry 
voices. 

The man in charge of the mill for the night 
was trying to order off the premises a drunken 


THE PAPER-MILL. 


2II 


fellow, who was determined to stay. It seemed 
he had been turned out of some place where 
he had become involved in a drunken quarrel. 
The dispute ran high for some time. Finally 
the mill-hand said : — 

“ It ’s no use wasting words on you. You ’re 
drunk as a fool. Lie down there, and sleep it 
off if you can, and don’t let me hear anything 
more from you to-night.” 

The drunken man staggered over to the pile 
of paper clippings, and lay down beside the 
boys. Herbert nudged Gifford, and whispered, 
“ ‘ Misery makes strange bedfellows.’ ” At first, 
the drunken man was disposed to be quarrel- 
some ; but being let strictly alone, soon he be- 
came tenderly affectionate, being much drawn 
to the boys as fellow-tramps and brothers. 

You ’re on the road, and I ’m on the road,” 
he maundered, sitting up and swaying about. 
“ Shake hands.” 

This ceremony the boys had to undergo, 
rather than quarrel with him. 

“ I ’m a hard lad — drunk most of the time. 
But I ’ll never shee a friend, want so long ’s I 
have a cent in my pocket I ’ll shee ye off in 


212 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


the morning, and ye sha’ n’t go without a bite 
to eat, and shomething to drink. No, sir! It 
sha’ n’t be said Pat Maloney ever shee a friend 
suffer.” 

He now, to the boys’ relief, took a jovial turn, 
and indulged in snatches of song. Finally, at 
the urgent request of the mill-hand, he “ shut 
his mouth,” and, dropping over, literally fell into 
a drunken sleep, and lay snoring beside them. 

But it was long ere the boys could go to 
sleep again. The novelty of their surround- 
ings, the rude interior of the lonely mill, dimly 
lighted, the wind and storm howling mournfully 
around the building, shaking the doors violently, 
and dashing the rain in sheets against the win- 
dows that stared blackly out into the night, — 
all made them excited and wakeful; while the 
enforced companionship of the drunken man 
caused them to feel more like real tramps than 
any experience yet No wonder they felt for- 
lorn and lonely, and slept but brokenly. 


A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 


213 


CHAPTER XV. 

A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 

T heir bed was so extremely uncomfort- 
able, that although they had passed 
such a disturbed night, the boys wolce quite 
early, feeling lame, tired, and dispirited, after 
the various experiences of the day and night 
just past. Their drunken friend still slept 
heavily, and they were careful not to arouse 
him. 

To their disappointment, although it was not 
raining, neither was it clear. The weather was 
dark, cloudy, and threatening. The boys stood 
in the mill-door, anxiously scanning the gray 
sky. 

“ I don’t think it’s going to rain,” said Her- 
bert, whose anxiety to be getting on inclined 
him to the hopeful view. ‘‘ It ’s going to lighten 
up and clear off, before long. ‘ Rain before 


214 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


seven, clear before eleven,’ you know. Don’t 
you see that light spot now, down there in the 
south? ” 

“ Yes,” said Gifford; but that’s no place to 
look for fair weather. I am just as anxious to 
get on as you are, Bert ; but it looks to me like 
a settled rainy day, and I think we ’d best let 
well enough alone, and stay where we are till 
it clears. You know we agreed to lie by rainy 
days.” 

“Yes, I know,” replied Herbert; “but I’m 
sure it’s going to clear. Bet you the sun will 
be shining bright within half an hour. I ’m for 
pushing ahead, without loss of time talking. 
Our friend and brother here will wake up, first 
we know, and then we shall have a jolly time. 
The quicker we ’re off, the better.” 

So the argument waged, back and forth, until 
it finally waxed warm ; and when Gifford at last 
yielded to Herbert’s determination to set out, it 
was with a very ill grace. 

“ It ’s the biggest foolishness I ever heard 
of,” he grumbled. “We shall simply get wet 
through for nothing. It’s sure to rain.” 

They paddled sulkily off down-stream, both 


A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 


215 


sadly out of humor with each other, the weather, 
and things in general. All too soon Gifford’s 
dark predictions were fully realized. The rain 
came down, and soon both began to get pretty 
wet. Herbert now repented his persistency, and 
was not only ready but anxious to land. When, 
finally, they saw a small house a short distance 
below, on the right shore, he broke the rather 
moody silence in which they had hitherto pad- 
died on, by saying, “ Gif, you were right, after 
all. It is going to be a rainy day. Let’s stop 
here, and put up at that house till the rain holds 
up. It looks just about good enough, and not 
too good, to take us in.” 

Gifford, who had felt vexed with Herbert be- 
fore, was doubly annoyed at this proposition, 
but said nothing. 

If you don’t want to stop,” persisted Her- 
bert, you can land me here, and go on down- 
stream by yourself as far as you wish. I’ll 
meet you to-morrow, after the rain.” 

Gifford looked contemptuous, but still deigned 
no answer, paddling steadily on down-stream. 
Herbert, meantime, struck out for the bank. 
Gradually it dawned upon him that he was 


2i6 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


making no headway, that Gifford was working 
against him. 

“ Quit that, now. Gif! ” he cried. “ I’m going 
ashore, I tell you.” 

“ All right. Go ahead I ” said Gifford, laughing 
provokingly, and still paddling on down-stream. 

Herbert continued to struggle for the shore, 
but in vain. The contest, begun half in fun, 
gradually waxed serious, as slowly but surely 
Gifford’s obstinacy and Herbert’s temper were 
thoroughly aroused. 

And now began that battle of the Charles 
which will doubtless add to the historic fame 
of that already famous stream. Most naval 
engagements imply an encounter between two 
or more men-of-war. The distinguishing fea- 
ture of the battle of the Charles is that it was 
fought in only one small craft, though two men 
of war were engaged in it. 

The action, though brief, was brilliant. Both 
boys were now in a white heat. 

See here. Gif,” said Herbert angrily, his 
black eyes flashing, “ I won’t be domineered 
over like this. I want you to understand I ’m 
going now ! " 


A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 


217 


Gifford’s eyes blazed. “ I bet you won’t go 
ashore ! ” he said grimly. 

Herbert began fiercely paddling for the shore. 
Gifford paddled equally fiercely in the oppo- 
site direction. It was a clear case of “ Greek 
meet Greek.” Being about equally matched 
in strength, the inevitable result was that the 
Black-eyed Susan ” whirled round and round 
in a circle, like a crazy creature, while the cur- 
rent, meantime, was bearing her steadily down- 
stream, past the house. Both boys were too 
angry to appreciate the absurdity of the situa- 
tion. Round and round they spun in the rain, 
glaring at each other, each feeling that he would 
die before he would yield. 

“ Come, Gif, this is ridiculous ! ” cried Her- 
bert, angrily. “ Quit this fooling, and let me 
go ashore, I tell you ! ” 

“ Never ! ” said Gifford, setting his teeth. 
You wanted to go on. Now you ’ve got to ! ” 
We ’ll see about that ! ” said Herbert, pad- 
dling harder than ever for the shore. 

Round and round whirled the Susan ” again, 
more violently, swayed roughly this way and 
that. 


2I8 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


I ’ll throw you overboard, if you don’t 
quit ! ” cried Herbert, furious. “ I ’ll throw your 
valise overboard ! ” at the same time making a 
dive for it. 

At this, Gifford snatched his valise from Her- 
bert, and gave a sudden tip to the canoe. Over 
she went, and down sank both combatants, with 
all colors flying! 

Although the Charles was at this point not 
over their heads, for a moment both went under 
and disappeared, save that Gifford’s outstretched 
arm still projected above the disturbed waters, 
holding aloft his valise, like Excalibar in the 
romance of King Arthur. The Susan ” float- 
ing bottom upward and the debris drifting and 
bobbing about on the current were the only 
remaining tokens of the late fierce conflict. 

Then up from the water emerged two sleek, 
dripping heads, looking not unlike those of 
two huge water-rats. Gifford’s first care was to 
swim ashore, and deposit his valise in safety on 
the bank. Then he plunged in again, to assist 
Herbert, who was having a lively scramble to 
save their effects. The current being quite 
swift at this point, the paddles had already 


A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 


219 


floated some distance down-stream, and some 
brisk swimming was necessary to secure them 
and the other floating wreckage. It involved 
some time and hard work. When, at last, all 
their goods and chattels were rescued, the boys 
carried them up on the bank, and Herbert 
spread his rubber blanket over them, — a some- 
what needless precaution, it seemed, as cer- 
tainly no amount of rain could make them 
wetter than they already were. 

The waters of the Charles had decidedly 
cooled the boys’ fury. Still, neither felt like 
talking, and the work of salvage had been car- 
ried on in silence. 

Gifford’s prompt action had kept his valise 
dry, while Herbert’s things had all received 
a good ducking. Hence Gifford secretly felt 
that victory had, in a measure, as it were, 
perched on his banner; and when Herbert 
broke the silence, and made the first overture 
to reconciliation, by remarking sulkily, “ You 
can put your valise under my rubber blanket, 
if you want to,” he could afford to meet him 
half-way, and accept the peace-offering. They 
drew the “ Susan ” ashore, and turned her bot- 


220 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


tom upward to drain, and then, still not wast- 
ing their breath by any unnecessary words, 
walked back in the rain to the house. The good 
woman who opened the door exclaimed, — 

“ Mercy on us, how wet you be ! I knew it 
was raining pretty hard, but I didn’t suppose 
it poured like that ! ” 

The boys did not consider it necessary to 
enter into explanations. 

Come in and dry yourselves by the kitchen 
stove,” continued she. “ I ’m bakin’, and I ’ve 
got a first-rate fire. Never mind if you do 
drip. I ’m going to mop up, by and by, 
anyway.” 

As the boys stood dripping in the grateful 
heat of the kitchen stove, whence issued a de- 
licious odor of baking bread, Gifford suddenly 
burst out laughing. 

“ What are you laughing at? ” asked Herbert, 
resentfully. 

I happened to think how worried your 
Aunt Asenath was, for fear we might get our 
feet damp ! ” 

Herbert’s face relaxed at this. 

Damp ! ” he said. “ I wonder we are not 


A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 


221 - 


web-footed by this time, like two blessed old 
ducks ! ” 

In short, the boys were gradually melting, as 
it were, and each began to feel secretly ashamed 
of his part in what they called ** the row.” 

When they were nearly dry, the rain abated, 
and the gray sky lightened all over. Roosters 
crowed cheerfully far and near, the birds plucked 
up heart and began to sing again, and every- 
thing seemed to say, “ Look out for fair weather 
about this time.” Thfe boys decided that it was 
now best to go on, and after purchasing a sim- 
ple luncheon of their hostess,, re-embarked in 
the damp “ Susan.” 

There was still a barrier between them, a 
stiffness and sense of awkward consciousness 
left by their recent quarrel. But after they had 
paddled on awhile in silence, Herbert suddenly 
blurted out, “ Gif, I beg your pardon ! I ought 
to have been ashamed of myself to act so like 
a fool.” 

‘‘ I was quite as much to blame as you,” said 
Gifford ; “ I ought to have had more sense.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Herbert, his 
frank face glowing with kindly feeling toward 


222 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


his friend. I was awfully aggravating, and it 
isn’t the first time, either, since we started on 
this trip. And you have borne and forborne, 
like a regular martyr. This is really the first 
out-and-out row we’ve had; but no thanks 
to me.” 

‘‘ Oh, this little squabble is n’t anything,” 
replied Gifford, beaming good-naturedly back 
upon Herbert. It ’s a mere oasis in a perfect 
desert of good-will.” 

This mixed comparison made Herbert laugh. 

“All the same,” he said, “ it was mighty lucky 
for us the ^ Susan’ tipped over just as she did. 
We might have come to blows.” 

“ It would save a deal of trouble if angry 
people could always be ducked in cold water 
at the right moment,” said Gifford. “ Now, 
don’t let’s say anything more about the row. 
Let by-gones be by-gones. I can truly say, old 
sport, ‘ With all thy faults, I love thee still.’ ” 

“ Ditto, ditto ! ” exclaimed Herbert, in the 
highest of spirits that all was again serene be- 
tween himself and Gifford. 

The best of friends now, the boys paddled 
amicably on until the middle of the afternoon. 


A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 


223 


when they reached Dedham, having come over 
seven miles that day, and ninety-six miles 
in all. 

As the weather had not yet fully cleared, and 
they both felt decidedly the worse for their re- 
cent experiences, they decided to stop here for 
the night, thinking they could complete their 
trip and reach home the following night. The 
fact that their funds were nearly exhausted, 
combined with their shabbiness, decided them 
to engage lodgings for the night at a sort of 
combined lager-beer saloon, restaurant, and 
cheap lodging-house, kept by a German woman 
near the river. 

And now a sore temptation beset the boys. As 
Dedham adjoins Roxbury, it would really cost 
less to go home and spend the night than to 
stay here. They longed to go home, returning 
the next morning. But they reflected that they 
had determined to carry out the canoe trip as 
originally planned, and to go home by water or 
not at all. Running home across lots, as it 
were, before the trip was over, merely to avoid 
a little hardship, would be a decided weaken- 
ing. So, wisely suppressing their yearnings 


224 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


toward home, they decided, Grant like, to fight 
it out on this line, if it takes all summer.” 

Although a sign hanging over their land- 
lady’s door announced “ Cheap Board,” the 
boys feared even that might be too dear for 
them ; so, purchasing a loaf of baker’s bread, a 
dab of butter, and a pie, they retired with these 
provisions to their small apartment, and feasted 
like the two valiant trenchermen they were. The 
bed was none too inviting; but any bed seemed 
such an improvement upon none at all, that 
the boys were not disposed to be critical, and 
tumbling into it early, slept hard and long. 


MILL CREEK. 


225 


CHAPTER XVI. 

MILL CREEK. 

HEN the boys awoke late the next morn- 



^ ^ ing, the sun streaming brightly in at their 
one window promised a delightful day. They 
were on the alert at once, up, dressed, and ready 
to indulge in a very modest breakfast with their 
German landlady, who could not understand 
their declining the glass of beer which she, in 
the kindness of her heart, pressed upon them as 
a proper finish to the breakfast. 

The sky overhead was cloudless, and of a deep 
Septemberish blue, and the air, washed clear 
by the storm, was full of ozone, — a brisk tonic 
that set one’s blood tingling, made one alive all 
over, and ready for anything. 

The boys expected to reach home that night, 
having successfully carried out their trip in 
every detail, not without some risks and hard- 


5 


226 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


ships. No wonder that their eyes shone, their 
cheeks glowed, their hearts were light within 
them, as they stepped gayly into the buoyant 
“ Black-eyed Susan,” picked up the faithful 
paddles, dipped and away, barely skimming the 
surface of the quiet Charles, but leaving a wake 
of ripples behind that broke up the mirrored 
picture in the river, of blue sky overhanging 
trees and vines, into a confused kaleidoscopic 
mass of glinting colors. Here and there a 
bunch of golden-rod, a rustiness in the green 
of tree and bush, a prematurely red-and-yellow 
branch thrust out by a maple, hinted, as did 
some subtle undertone in the air, Summer ’s 
over; autumn ’s coming.” 

It was all beautiful and animating to the boys ; 
and as they sped on, Herbert struck up, — 

“ Out on an ocean all boundless we ride ; 

We ’re homeward bound, homeward bound. 

Tossed on the waves of a rough, restless tide. 

We ’re homeward bound, homeward bound.” 

Gifford, who felt like Herbert a strong draw- 
ing toward home, added on the refrain an un- 
certain bass to Herbert’s half-tenor, half-soprano ; 
and the two boyish voices floated pleasantly out 


MILL CREEK, 


227 


on the morning air, making more than one 
passer-by alongshore regard kindly the swift- 
gliding Susan ” and her happy sailors. 

Ere long they came to the mouth, or rather 
source, of Mill Creek. Mill Creek is a singular 
freak of nature, — a river actually flowing from 
one river, the Charles, into another, the Nepon- 
set, thus making an island of the large tract of 
country enclosed by these three streams and 
the Atlantic. 

The boys might have continued on the 
Charles, through Cambridge, to the sea. But 
the route via Mill Creek was not only several 
miles shorter, but would bring them into the 
harbor much nearer home. Moreover, Mill 
Creek, in its rapid descent from the Charles 
to the Neponset, pours tumultuously down over 
several dams, promising the boys work exactly 
suited to their overflowing energies this brisk 
morning. So it did not take them long to de- 
cide upon the Mill-Creek route home. 

They entered this stream with lively expec- 
tations, which were destined to be more fully 
realized even than they anticipated, before the 
day was ended. 


228 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Experience had made them so expert, that 
they made quick work of the first dams they 
encountered, enjoying it all immensely. 

“ This seems like the good old times on the 
Piscataquog,” suggested Herbert, as he wiped 
the perspiration from his glowing face. 

“ Yes,” said Gifford, “ that last dam was fine 
sport; equal to anything in the whole Uncanoo- 
nuc region.” 

At the next dam, however, they came to 
something entirely new in their experience. 
They found that the main portion of the water 
flowed under a large mill, which was built out 
partly over the dam. Peering under the mill, 
which was built very low, near the water’s sur- 
face, they could see light ahead. 

“ I guess we can go right under the mill,” 
said Gifford. “ That light ahead is where we 
come out into the clear water below.” 

But on closer inspection, they discovered a 
dark, narrow sluice-way under the mill, down 
which a strong current poured directly upon 
the wheel. 

“ I don’t like the looks of that sluice-way,” 
said Gifford. 


MILL CREEK. 


229 


“ It looks mighty suggestive, I must say,” 
admitted Herbert. 

As the boys rested on their paddles, debating 
what it was best to do, some of the mill-hands 
came to the door overhead, who, on learning the 
difficulty, said : “ Oh, go ahead ! You won’t have 
any trouble getting through. There ’s no danger 
of getting into the sluice. Just aim for the light 
ahead, and you ’ll get through all right.” 

Thus encouraged, the boys ventured under, 
though not without a degree of nervousness. 
The mill timbers came so near the water that 
it was necessary to duck down into the bottom 
of the canoe while going under. /Now, each 
end of the canoe, to prevent her shipping water, 
was covered with canvas for about two feet and 
a half. Herbert, who sat in the bow, as he 
ducked down, thrust his head under this can- 
vas covering, and immediately forgot it, in his 
excitement. 

When it seemed to him time for them to be 
coming out, suddenly he noticed, to his horror, 
that all was dark and suffocating about him. 
He could see no light ahead ! They were in 
the sluice-way! 


230 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Giving one terrific yell of horror, he bounded 
up just in time to strike his head violently 
against the timbers as the Susan ” was emerg- 
ing from under the mill. 

Gifford, who, lying on his back in the stern, 
had been able to see light ahead all the time 
by raising his head slightly, and consequently 
knew that they were coming safely out into the 
open water, stared in amazement at Herbert, 
who sat gazing about him in a wild, dazed way, 
rubbing his head. 

“ What is the matter, Bert ? ” cried Gifford. 

Have you suddenly gone crazy? ” 

“ Thought we were in the sluice,” said Her- 
bert. “ Gracious, my skull must be thick ! 
Did you hear the mill timbers crack just 
now?” 

When he had fully explained his late ostrich- 
like situation to Gifford, they both laughed till 
they nearly fell out of the canoe, Herbert’s 
keen sense of the ludicrous enabling him to en- 
joy a good joke even at his own expense. 

Farther on down-stream they came to what 
seemed at first a formidable obstacle. Below 
them lay a high dam, with a road and bridge 


MILL CREEK. 


231 


crossing above it. Below the dam stood two 
large mills. 

“ We shall have to land here, and recon- 
noitre, to see how we can get around this,” said 
Herbert. 

They found that the main body of water ran 
under the mills. The mills were surrounded by 
a high fence, extending across the dam, and, 
after enclosing a large tract of land, crossing the 
stream again some distance below. 

“ This is a situation ! ” said Gifford, surveying 
these complications in perplexity. “ One thing 
is sure ; it will be next to impossible for us to 
carry the ‘ Susan ’ all the way around, below 
this mill fence.” 

“ If we could only hoist her over this fence 
we should be all right,” suggested Herbert. 
“ We could slip her into the river there below 
the dam, and shoot under that fence down there 
easily enough.” 

** Let’s see if we can do that,” said Gifford. 

The boys brought the canoe from the mill- 
pond to the fence, which Herbert easily scaled. 
After much effort, he one side the fence, Gifford 
the other, by their united exertions they sue- 


232 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


ceeded in hoisting the “Susan” over, and land- 
ing her on the grass within the enclosure, when 
Gifford followed her. All this, however, took 
time. 

Meantime, the attention of the girls working 
in that end of the mill nearest the dam was 
naturally attracted by these novel proceedings, 
and word gradually spreading up through the 
mill, and from that to the next, the mill-windows 
W£re now filled with interested spectators, while 
work was practically suspended. 

As the boys began hurriedly dragging the 
“ Susan ” across the grass toward the river, the 
superintendent came out of the mill door, and 
stood on a low foot-bridge crossing the stream. 

“ You must take your boat right away from 
here,” he said with authority. “ Don’t you see 
you ’re stopping work? ” 

The boys, it is to be feared, affected more 
dulness of comprehension than the actual facts 
warranted, feeling as they did the vital necessity 
of getting into the river then and there, at all 
hazards. 

“ Yes sir, yes sir,” they said meekly, mean- 
time dragging the canoe as fast as possible 


MILL CREEK. 


233 


across the grass toward the stream. “ We ’re 
getting away just as quick as we can.” 

“ Carry that canoe back out of here, I tell 
you ! You ’re trespassing ! ” 

“Yes sir; just as quick as we can,” replied 
the boys, soothingly, pulling the canoe briskly 
down the grassy bank. 

“ Go right back out of here the way you 
came ! ” shouted the angry superintendent. 

The boys were now at the water’s edge, and 
felt their escape reasonably secure. 

“ That is n’t quite so easy as it seems, sir,” 
they replied, pushing the canoe into the water. 

The superintendent was now furious, while 
the giggling mill-girls were delighted. 

“ I ’ve warned you to go back. If you come 
on, I ’ll smash your canoe ! ” he shouted from 
his vantage-point on the foot-bridge. 

The boys had leaped aboard and seized the 
paddles. “ You smash this canoe at your 
peril ! ” shouted the excited Herbert. “ Gif, let 
her sliver ! ” 

The stream rushed down in a regular torrent 
under the bridge, and the boys put in their best 
strokes and dashed at railroad speed, under the 


234 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


bridge, under the lower fence, and out into the 
stream below, shouting as they shot by the 
superintendent, “ Thank you, sir ! Ever so, 
much obliged I ” 

When they were at a sufficient distance from 
the factories to make it prudent to relax their 
speed, they drew in paddles and lay back and 
floated, to regain their breath. 

“ Pretty close work, that,” said Gifford. 

“Well, we could n’t have carried the ‘Susan’ 
around all that distance,” said Herbert; “and 
we really did n’t do any sort of harm going 
across those factory grounds.” 

“ ‘ All is fair in love and war,’ ” quoted Gif- 
ford. “ This was war, — war to the knife, — a 
clear case for strategy.” 

The boys were so elated by their triumphant 
escape, that they forgot the old proverb, “ Pride 
goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit 
before a fall.” They were paddling gayly on, 
feeling like all-conquering heroes before whose 
proud advance everything is bound to give way, 
when they espied some way ahead of them a 
very low bridge. The river was full to either 
shore at this point, and its waters, at a distance. 


MILL CREEK. 


235 


seemed to come up nearly to the timbers of the 
bridge. 

“ Ha ! ” exclaimed Herbert. Do you see 
that bridge, Gif? Think we can get under 
that ? ” 

Oh, that ’s easy enough,” said Gifford. 
‘^We can just lie down flat on our backs, and 
pull ourselves under.” 

How jolly ! ” said Herbert, delighted at this 
new experience. 

As they drew nearer, they noticed two fellows 
lounging on the bridge, staring at them with 
open-mouthed interest. 

“ See those yokels stare,” said Herbert. 

Guess they never saw a canoe before.” 

“ They mean to know one again when they 
see it,” said Gifford. 

The interest of the youths on the bridge rose 
to evident excitement as the canoeists lay down 
on their backs and disappeared under the 
bridge. 

The under side of the bridge was too dusty 
and too “ begarlanded of spiders ” to be alto- 
gether agreeable so near one’s face, and the 
boys clawed and pulled vigorously at the tim- 


236 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


bers, to get through, and out of their close 
quarters. 

“ Seems to be a wide bridge,” puffed Gifford, 
‘‘ wider than I thought” 

“ I was just thinking the same thing,” said 
Herbert “ Hot work, this. I say. Gif, suppose 
a team should happen to trot smartly across 
this bridge just now; how the dirt would rattle 
down through the cracks into our eyes ! Hark ! 
I believe I hear one coming ! Pull, Gif, pull ! ” 
r And the boys pulled more desperately than 
ever, until they were all in a perspiration. The 
canoe swayed violently, this way and that, but 
made no progress. 

“ I don’t understand this,” said Gifford. 
“ We ’re not making any headway.” 

“ The stern must be stuck against the bridge 
timbers,” said Herbert. “ Back her up, and 
then give a tremendous pull.” 

The boys backed the canoe, then gave a great 
pull to get her through, but brought up with a 
sudden jerk. They tried this experiment several 
times, always bringing up with this same jerk. 

“ Something ’s wrong,” said Herbert “ Back 
her out.” 


MILL CREEK, 


237 


Backing the canoe, they crawled out, covered 
with dust and cobwebs, to find, to their disgust, 
that the despised “ yokels ” had slyly seized 
their stern rope, as the canoe glided under, and 
tied them fast to the bridge. 

Breathing wrath and yiaughter, they landed, 
and beat the country-side up and down in hot 
quest of the enemy. 

Come out of the woods, you cowards ! We 
want to see you a minute ! ” shouted Gifford. 

'*Yes,” roared Herbert, come out here, and 
we ’ll give you the best drubbing you ever had 
in your lives ! ” 

But no response came to these' hospitable in- 
vitations. The yokels had evidently scuttled 
off as fast as their legs could carry them, and 
were now doubtless lying somewhere in ambush 
behind the bushes, holding their sides with 
laughter over their successful trick. 

It was some time before our canoeists cooled 
down sufficiently to pick up their paddles and 
resume their trip. This time they were soon 
under the bridge. 


238 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

ON THE NEPONSET. 

ATE in the afternoon they left tumultuous 



^ — ' Mill Creek for the quieter waters of the 
Neponset. 

Their surroundings now began to seem most 
familiar and homelike. Close by looked down 
the picturesque Blue Hills of Milton. Through 
gaps in the fringe of trees and bushes along the 
river’s bank they caught glimpses of stately old 
mansions standing far back on the hills under 
majestic elms, — houses with a history, houses 
that had the air of having been the home of 
well-known families for generations. 

The boy’s clothes — what were left of them — 
had become fearfully demoralized these last 
few days, growing no better very fast indeed ; 
and their only hope now was to succeed in 
reaching home while enough tattered remnants 
yet held together to cover them. 


ON THE NEPONSET. 


239 


They felt their shabbiness all the more keenly 
from the eminent respectability of their sur- 
roundings, and were greatly afraid of encoun- 
tering acquaintances. 

“ How would you like to meet some of the 
Milton girls now, Gif,” suggested Herbert, — 
“ say that pretty Ruth Saltonstall, at whose 
house we had such a jolly time at her german 
last winter, you remember? The Salstonstall 
lawn runs down near the river somewhere along 
here, I think.” 

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Gifford. “Don’t 
suggest such a horrible possibility, Bert! You 
make my blood run cold ! If we are so unlucky 
as to meet any acquaintances, our only course 
is to cut them dead, — paddle right by, and 
make no sign. No one would ever recognize 
us, that ’s one comfort.” 

“ I ’m not so sure of that,” said Herbert. 
“ Girls have wonderfully sharp eyes.” 

Along in the afternoon, as, getting nearer 
and nearer the successful end of their trip, their 
spirits had risen to the point of recklessness, 
they came to a dam. Herbert, who was fa- 
miliar with the locality, knew that it was low. 


240 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


He had not forgotten — indeed, he was not suf- 
fered by Gifford to forget — the little episode of 
the mill-sluice. Now the happy idea occurred 
to him of “ stumping ” Gifford. 

“ Gif,” he said, “ let ’s go right over this dam 
impromptu, — without looking. Come, I dare 
you to go it blind.” 

All right,” said Gifford, not blenching an 
atom, or even making, as Herbert expected, 
any prudent remonstrances. I don’t care.” 

“ Here goes, then,” said Herbert. 

They bore straight down on the swift current 
toward the dam. Luckily, or unluckily, the 
water was lower than they thought, and, instead 
of plunging over the dam, the canoe caught on 
the flashboard and tipped them out, and the 
boys went splashing into the deep water, while 
all the canoe’s contents also went down and in. 

As they were now quite as much at home 
in the water as on land, their spirits were not 
dampened, though their garments were, by this 
trifling episode. They even gathered them- 
selves up and tried it again, with no better 
success. Finally, after several efforts they were 
obliged to give it up and carry the “ Susan 


ON THE NEPONSET, 


241 


around, although a crowd of boys had gathered 
on the bank and cheered them on with cries of, 
“ Go it again ! Go it again ! ” 

As an original experimenter, you are not 
much of a success, Bert,” remarked Gifford, as 
they toiled around through the bushes with the 
faithful “ Susan.” 

I would n’t have given up so easily,” said 
Herbert, “ only it seemed a pity to knock in 
the ‘ Susan’s ’ sides when we were so near 
home.” 

Farther on, in the set-back above another 
mill-dam, suddenly the phenomenon of rippling 
waves in the still water ahead attracted their 
attention. 

Hand me that setting-pole, quick ! ” cried 
Herbert, from the bow, in great excitement. 

The setting-pole was a useful present that 
had been given the boys by their friends the 
lumbermen above Lowell, — a long iron-wood 
pole, with a sharp hook or prong at the end ; 
an instrument the boys had often found very 
serviceable. 

“ What is it? ” asked Gifford, as he passed up 
the setting-pole. 

16 


242 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


‘‘The biggest mud-turtle you ever saw! Just 
look at the monster ! ” 

Sure enough, Gifford could dimly see, pad- 
dling heavily along down in the water, a huge 
mud-turtle, at least eighteen inches long. 

The boys had no special use for a mud-turtle ; 
but all the hunter instinct, all the savage blood 
in them, woke at this sight, and they speared and 
splashed wildly at the turtle, feeling like whalers, 
Indians, Robinson Crusoe himself, all in one. 

Herbert hit the turtle, but did not maim it, 
as the brisk agitation of the water showed it to 
be heading for the shore. 

Again they caught a glimpse of the monster 
among the reeds along the bank. Leaping 
ashore, they had an exciting chase through 
mud, water, reeds, and bushes, Herbert armed 
with the setting-pole, and Gifford with a pad- 
dle. But the turtle, which had the advantage 
of being on its own ground, finally eluded them, 
disappearing in some hiding-place among the 
reeds known only to itself. 

“ What a shame we lost him, when we were 
so near I ” exclaimed Gifford, as, hot and breath- 
less, they returned to the canoe. 


ON THE NEPONSET. 


243 


‘‘Well, we had the fun of chasing him, any- 
way,” said Herbert, whose kindly nature began 
to look at the matter from the turtle’s point of 
view. “I hope I didn’t hurt the poor crea- 
ture. I suppose mud-turtles have their feel- 
ings, the same as other folks, only a fellow 
does n’t always remember it, when he ’s on a 
still hunt.” 

Toward sundown, as they shot out from under 
the arch of a substantial stone bridge, they came 
suddenly upon a pleasing picture, — a boat-load 
of merry children floating along down-stream, 
a pretty, dark-haired girl sitting bareheaded in 
the stern, trimming her hat with barberries and 
plumes of golden-rod, while the big brother held 
the oars, the whole reflected in the dark, still 
waters of the Neponset. 

As the boys glided by, from down-stream came 
a mellow view-halloo : “ Oo-hoo ! Oo-hoo ! ’’ 

It seemed to be a well-understood signal. 

“ Oo-hoo ! ” yodled back the young boat- 
man, picking up his oars, and plying them 
vigorously down-stream. 

The boys, who preceded him, came to an evi- 
dently much-used landing-place, where sat on 


244 


THEIR CANOE TRIP, 


the bank a gigantic brown mastiff, half as big as 
a man, and apparently nearly as intelligent. 

“ Oh, there ’s Elko ! ” cried the children. 

Elko ! Elko ! Come here, sir.” 

The intelligent Elko arose, and waved his 
majestic tail in civil response to this greeting, 
but declined to be enticed into the water, pre- 
ferring to await his friends’ arrival on shore. 

As the boys swept on, they had a glimpse of 
what might have been an English park, but for 
the huge bowlders which rose in almost startling 
contrast here and there from the smooth, green 
sward. These indeed were some of the very 
bowlders whose origin Holmes ascribes to the 
pudding wildly flung about by the family of the 
Dorchester Giant some ages ago : — 

“ They flung it over to Roxbury hills, 

They flung it over the plain. 

And all over Milton and Dorchester too 
Great lumps of pudding the giants threw; 

They tumbled thick as rain. 

Giant and mammoth have passed away, 

For ages have floated by ; 

The suet is hard as a marrow-bone, 

And every plum is turned to stone. 

But there the puddings lie ! ” 


ON THE NET ONSET. 


245 


In the pleasant shade of fine trees grazed a 
herd of Holsteins, as handsome and as becom- 
ing to the landscape as deer; while in the dis- 
tance, from a mass of foliage, peeped out the 
roof of a house, probably the home of the young 
folks whom the boys had just passed. 

“ I do believe Boston is the Hub of the 
Universe,” said Herbert. 

Yes,” said Gifford ; there ’s no place like 
home, especially when your home is in 
Boston.” 

The dam at Milton Lower Mills was the ninth 
the boys encountered that day. 

The “ Black-eyed Susan ” was leaking some- 
what, and in rather a used-up condition generally, 
and no wonder, after all her rough-and-tumble 
experiences. The boys durst not venture into 
the rapids below the dam in her, lest she come 
to^grief. It would be aggravating in the ex- 
treme to ship^^^eck on their last day out, after 
coming safely thro'Sgh so much. They there- 
fore unloaded the canoe, and walked out into 
the middle of the river with her, Gifford guiding 
the bow, while Herbert held the stern. 

They were somewhat embarrassed by the 


246 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


assembling of quite a crowd on the bridge above 
to watch their struggles, and felt that they could 
have dispensed with spectators, especially when, 
the current being very swift and the bottom un- 
even and rocky, they both slipped and went 
down. They held manfully to the canoe, but 
were dragged along some distance, not only 
rending their garments but cutting their bare 
feet and knees on the sharp rocks, all to the 
immense satisfaction and delight, apparently, of 
the boys on the bridge, who stimulated them 
with all sorts of derisive remarks, as they 
struggled up, dripping, to their feet again. 

Below this point the water rushed with im- 
mense force through a narrow gorge between 
rocks. Taking their bearings carefully, the boys 
let go their footing on the bottom, and clinging 
to and guiding the canoe as best they could, 
they succeeded in letting her down through the 
worst part of the rapids into the smooth tide- 
water below. Yes, tide- water ! For at last they 
were on the sea-level, and their voyage was 
practically over. This was the^ast of the thirty 
dams they had encountered in the trip. 

Notwithstanding their unpleasantly moist con- 


ON THE NET ONSET. 


247 


dition, aching backs, and bruised limbs, the 
boys were full of exultation. 

“ Well, Gif,” said Herbert, all radiant smiles, 
“ we Ve done it ! ” 

“ Bert, old sport,” replied Gifford, his eyes 
shining triumphantly, “ let me tell you one 
thing. There ’s no pleasure in the world equal 
to doing what you set out to do, carrying 
through your plan though heaven and earth 
seem set against it. I do hate to peter out ! ” 

“ I should say so ! ” said Herbert. 

As they now paddled swiftly down the Nepon- 
set, their nostrils were greeted by the delicious 
salt smell of the ocean, their native air. Across 
the flats, even in the fast gathering darkness, 
could be seen gleaming palely a long white 
streak of water, — the Atlantic Ocean. 

Night was coming on fast, the tide was low, 
there were no lights, and a strong off-shore 
breeze was blowing. Even the boys’ strong 
desire to get home that night did not blind 
them to the risks involved in venturing out on 
the harbor at night under these circumstances. 

We shall have to give it up, after all,” said 
Herbert. 


248 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


“ Yes,” said Gifford ; “ it would be mere fool- 
hardiness to try to make it to-night. We must 
put up somewhere here for the night.” 

The tide being out, the water was low in the 
river, and the flats uncovered. Under these 
circumstances, it was no easy matter to find a 
suitable place to leave the Susan.” Blunder- 
ing around in the darkness, the boys at last 
managed to run her up on the flats, and secure 
her to a pile of logs, so that the incoming tide 
should not sweep her away. 

Good-by, old ‘ Susan.’ See you again to- 
morrow morning! ” shouted Herbert cheerfully, 
as they struck out through the mud for a light 
on shore. 

Their rough appearance was not improved by 
the thick coating of black dock-mud that now 
covered them to their knees; and although 
Gifford remarked, “ Our wounds are now plas- 
tered,” the fact did not seem much comfort to 
them. The light they saw proved to be that 
of a small inn. 

It took some courage to approach even a 
waterside tavern in their condition, and ask for 
lodgings. Although this was not a house patron- 


ON THE NEPONSET. 


249 


ized by the “ nobility and gentry,” and the land- 
lord was used to entertaining some rough char- 
acters, yet even he, and the very loafers in the 
bar-room, looked askance at our heroes in their 
sorry plight. 

Herbert, nerved by necessity, rose to the 
emergency, and launched out into a humorous 
recital of their adventures and misadventures 
that soon had the room in a roar of laughter; 
and the softened landlord furnished them a pail 
of water to rinse off as much as possible of the 
Neponset soil they carried, and then admitted 
them to a small chamber in the roof, where ex- 
citement kept them long awake, tossing so rest- 
lessly about on the squeaking bedstead that it 
threatened to give out beneath them. 

‘"To-morrow!” they thought joyfully; "‘to- 
morrow ! ” 


250 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

IN PORT. 

HE dormer-window of the boys* chamber 



opened toward the east. ^ Though they 
went to sleep so late, they awoke very early, 
with the dawning of day. The whole eastern 
sky was flushed with a pink light. Leaning out 
of the window, they looked far off across the 
ocean, all restless this morning with little danc- 
ing waves, to where the red rim of the sun 
peered up apparently out of the water. Higher 
and higher he mounted, till the great red orb 
swung up into full view, and lay on the water, 
sending a long track of red light glinting across 
the restless waves to the very shore. 

The boys drew in long breaths of the salt air. 

“ It’s going to be a glorious day,” said Gifford. 

‘‘ Hurrah for We, Us, and Co. ! ” cried Her- 
bert. Let ’s waltz, old chappie ! I must do 
something, or I shall burst ! ” 


IN PORT. 


251 


And away the boys went around the room in 
their night-gear, with all the grace acquired in 
many germans, and some extra touches thrown 
in, until they brought up full force against the 
venerable bedstead with a shock that threatened 
to crush it 

“ Hold on! ” said Gifford. “We can’t afford 
to invest in furniture just at this period of our 
brilliant career. We must be off. The earlier 
we get home the better.” 

“ I should say so. There ’s some danger, 
I ’m afraid, that the police will arrest us for two 
Wagrom men,’ before we reach the shelter of 
the paternal roof,” said Herbert 

They paid twenty-five cents each for their 
lodging, and made the “ Boots ” happy by pre- 
senting him with all the clothes left to them, 
except the tattered remnants still necessary to 
wear on their persons. Preferring to breakfast 
at home, they only bought a few crackers to 
keep themselves from being faint, and munched 
them as they walked down to where the 
“ Susan ” lay. 

“ Cap’n Cuttle,” said Herbert, “ please make 
a note of this solemn vow of mine. This is the 


252 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


last cracker I shall ever eat. I never want to 
see another cracker as long as I live.” 

“ I ’ll join you in taking that vow,” said Gif- 
ford, laughing. 

They paddled lightly away down the Nepon- 
set, which wound brightly along through its 
vivid green salt marshes in the morning sun- 
light. Everything looked so familiar, so beauti- 
ful, to the home-coming boys. iThe stacks of 
brown marsh-hay, the irregular inlets and pools 
where the tide set back, the innumerable skiffs 
and boats tied to poles and bobbing restlessly 
about on the tide, the rows of bath-houses, the 
broad expanse of deep-blue water stretching far 
away to the horizon, the white sails far and near, 
gleaming in the sunlight, the mass of brick 
houses in the distance with the gilt dome tower- 
ing above, — how well the boys knew it all! 
And underneath, hardly realized, lay the charm 
which the ocean has for every one, but espe- 
cially for those born on its shore. 

Soon they came out upon the bay, which was 
lively this morning with countless white-capped 
waves, upon which the “ Black-eyed Susan ” 
danced like a cork, apparently as light-hearted 


IN PORT, 


253 


and joyous as the boys themselves. Her- 
bert’s fertile imagination was stimulated by 
excitement. 

“ I tell you what, Gif,” he said, we ought 
to be blown out to sea now, for a little finish 
to our trip, and picked up by an out-bound 
Cunarder ! Fancy the fun of it, — our obituaries 
in the papers, our weeping families appreciating 
our virtues at last, and all that. After a few 
weeks, some fine morning, lo and behold, the 
door opens, and in walk the long-lost sons ! ” 

“With a bagful of gold under each arm, I 
suppose,” said Gifford. “ You ought to write 
a dime novel, Bert. No, plain, tame coming 
home is good enough for me, with one of my 
mother’s breakfasts in the background.” 

“ Breakfast ! I should say so ! ” said Herbert, 
making the water fly as he paddled all the faster 
for Gifford’s cheerful suggestion. 

At last the much-enduring canoe was rounded 
triumphantly up to the Savin Hill wharf, the 
paddles were dropped, the canoe trip was ended ! 
One hundred and seven miles had the “ Black- 
eyed Susan ” come from the hills of New Hamp- 
shire to the Atlantic Ocean. 


254 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


The boys trudged home on foot through 
Dorchester to Roxbury, choosing the by-ways 
rather than the highways. 

How distressingly trim and civilized Rox- 
bury does look ! ” exclaimed Herbert, as they 
passed handsome houses with close-shaven lawns 
and precise beds of foliage plants and geraniums, 
neat bank-walls, great old trees without a super- 
fluous branch or even twig. Everything looked 
so finished, so carefully kept, Herbert felt it 
almost oppressive. “ I can hardly draw a long 
breath,” he exclaimed. “ I feel shut in ; I pine 
for the wilds of the Piscataquog.” 

You look like a pirate, — an amiably dis- 
posed pirate,” said Gifford. “ I expect it’s go- 
ing to be hard on us, breaking into civilization 
again. But if we only get home this morning 
without meeting any one we know, I can bear 
anything else.” 

“ I doubt if they know us at home,” said 
Herbert; 

Such, indeed, proved to be the case. 

Mrs. Osborne had risen unusually early this 
morning, partly to water some plants near the 
side porch before the sun should reach them. 


IN PORT. 


255 


As she was thus occupied, Nora, at the kitchen 
window, said, — 

“ I never saw the beat of it, how thick the 
tramps are getting! Here comes another. 
Wants his breakfast, I suppose.” 

Mrs. Osborne glanced toward the side gate 
and saw a ragged young fellow just entering. 
Her heart was very tender toward all wanderers 
just then, on account of her own boy who 
was out somewhere in the wide world ; and she 
said kindly, “Poor boy! You must give him 
a good breakfast, Nora,” and went on with her 
work. 

The tramp meanwhile drew near, and sud- 
denly seized her around the waist. Mrs. Os- 
borne dropped the watering-pot, deluging her 
slippered feet, and screamed. 

“ Why, don’t you know me, mother?” cried 
Herbert, while the whole family rushed out of 
the house. 

Great was the laughter, the kissing, the talk- 
ing all together, the exclamations over Bert’s 
incredible appearance. Mrs. King and Gifford 
soon came over to compare notes. 

“ I nearly fainted when I saw .Gifford,” said 


256 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


Mrs. King. “ I really can’t get over the shock. 
I never should have known him, — never ! ” 

I should n’t have thought it possible,” said 
Marion, “ that any one could look worse than 
Bert does ; but I really believe, Gifford, you go 
a few degrees beyond him.” 

“ If I look any worse than Bert, I don’t 
want to live,” said Gifford. “Ii’ll hie me to a 
nunnery.” 

'‘You’d both best hie you to a bath-tub,” 
said Mrs. Osborne, “ and then we will have 
breakfast, and you can tell us all about your 
adventures. Luckily, I have some of your 
favorite muffins this morning, Herbert.” 

“ Muffins ! ” exclaimed Herbert, tragically. 
“ Oh, mother, you touch a tender chord ! ” 
and he fell in affected tears of joy on her 
neck. 

“We are not particular,” said Gifford. “ Don’t 
put yourselves out on our account. Almost 
anything will do for us, eh, Bert? ” 

“ Anything but crackers.” 

In short, the boys were lionized to their heart’s 
content, their admiring families sitting at their 
feet, as it were, and listening with mingled 


IN PORT. 


257 


admiration and dismay to the tale of their varied 
experiences. 

“To think what the poor boys must have 
suffered ! ” exclaimed Mrs. King. “ Just look 
at their hands, and the color of their faces, and 
Gifford’s trousers, and only one shoe on his 
foot I ” 

“ The ‘ poor boys ’ don’t seem to need much 
sympathy,” said Mr. Osborne, gazing with satis- 
faction on their black and sunburnt visages 
and horny hands, and fancying he already saw 
an added manliness in Herbert’s bearing. 

Aunt Asenath had happened to drop in early 
that morning on the way to her grocer’s, and so, 
luckily, was just in time for all the excitement of 
the home-coming, and to see the boys with the 
bloom of travel fresh upon them. 

“ Well,” she said, “ as you have come home 
alive, there ’s nothing to be said, I suppose. 
But it 's a most merciful dispensation of Provi- 
dence that you were n’t drowned a dozen times 
over; and I’m sure you’ll both have the rheu- 
matism yet, — wading about in the water, sleep- 
ing on the ground, shooting over dams ! Boys 
are strange creatures, I must say.” 

17 


258 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


She was so pleased, however, with the pressed 
flowers that Herbert had brought her from the 
sacred soil of Concord, — specimens she par- 
ticularly desired, as it happened, — that she half 
forgave him for enjoying himself in ways so 
foreign to her own tastes, and for having falsified 
all her predictions and all the probabilities. 

Gifford and Herbert broke into civilization 
again much more easily than might have been 
expected. Old habit is second nature. Soon, 
immolated in correct array, even to starched 
shirts and polished shoes, they might have been 
observed walking the streets of Roxbury and 
Boston, the admired of all the young ladies of 
their acquaintance : — 

“ Of war and fair women 
The young knights are dreaming, 

With bright breastplates gleaming, 

And plumed helmets on ! ” 

Only their sunburnt faces, their brown and 
calloused hands, their abnormal appetites, dis- 
tinguished them from common mortals who had 
not been on a canoe trip. 

The account of their experiences, losing noth- 
ing, it must be confessed, in the recital, made 


IN PORT. 


259 


great sport among their friends, and gave them 
a popularity that was hard for their rivals to 
bear calmly. One envious youth attempted to 
hint that the canoe trip was becoming bore-us, 
and to compare them to the Ancient Mariner: 

“ He holds him with his skinny hand, — 

‘ There was a ship,’ quoth he ; ” 

but he at once found himself on the unpopular 
side, and was glad to recant and sit humbly at 
the all-conquering heroes’ feet. When a full 
report of their trip actually graced the columns 
of the “ Advertiser,” to be copied thence into 
the “Transcript” and “Globe,” the boys felt 
that they had hideed reached the summit of 
earthly fame. 

Bessie Temple dropped the Harvard Fresh- 
man who was basking in her smiles, so suddenly 
that it was some time before that young gentle- 
man realized the cyclone that had swept over 
his prospects ; and Herbert did not mention the 
“ merry maiden ” of the Merrimac to her. And 
we may safely surmise that after the canoe 
had been duly repaired and made taut. Sue 
Fox had more than one opportunity of testing 


26 o 


THEIR CANOE TRIP. 


her namesake’s speed on the moonlit waters of 
Dorchester Bay. 

Whatever a cold outside world might think 
of the canoe trip, the immediate relatives of 
the canoeists were so happy to have them re- 
turn alive and sound of limb, that they readily 
conceded the trip to be, what the boys evi- 
dently considered it, one of the most successful 
and remarkable voyages known to history. 

As for the boys, much as they talked of it, 
no one could ever know quite all that their trip 
had been to them. Its experiences had taught 
them a certain dauntlessness and self-reliance, 
a contempt for obstacles and for trifling incon- 
veniences, that form no small f)art of a manly 
character. It had been a royally good time; 
but, best of all, it was a good time forever. 
As the years roll on, bringing cares and trials 
that shall somewhat dampen the enthusiasm of 
boyhood, brighter and brighter will shine the 
memory of those happy, careless summer days 
on New England rivers, — the days of “ Their 
Canoe Trip.” 


THE END. 


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appearance of snow just after Thanksgiving. The merit of the story lies in its 
evident biographical truth. . . . The result is a charming local picture, quite 
worth the attention of English boys and girls, as showing what New England 
life is in a respectable farmer’s family, — plain folks who do their own w'ork, but 
entirely free from the low-comic variety of Yankee talk and manners too often 
considered essential to the success of a New England story.” — The Nation. 

“‘Jolly Good Times’ is a story of country life, evidently written by one who 
is thoroughly acquainted with the subject. It is redolent of rural odors, vocal 
with rural sounds, and instinct with the simple sweetness of old New England 
life. . . . The children are real creatures, compounds of good and evil, full of 
spirit, yet amiable and obedient. Teddy, like Artemus Ward’s kangaroo, is very 
‘amoosin,’ and some of his predicaments are very laughable. The chapter 
in which the quiet passage of a country Sunday is described is remarkable for its 
fidelity to fact and its graceful expression. ‘ Jolly Good Times’ is as pure as a 
summer sky, and exhilarates without exciting.” — Literary World, Boston. 

“ P. Thorne is a pseudonym pleasantly associated in the minds of the readers 
of the ‘ Register ’ with many bright and earnest contributions to its columns, .‘'he 
is also the author of one of the successful children’s books of la-t year; and the 
present little work, ‘ Jolly Good Times at School,’ is in some sort a sequel to her 
former venture. It is also an improvement upon it in both matter and manner. 
Pleasing pictures it gives us of the school and child-life of New England as it 
existed twenty-five years ago, and as it still exists in the more secluded and rural 
districts. . . . Interwoven here and there in the narrative are charming descrip- 
tions of the natural beauties and characteristic scenes of New England : the ‘ cold 
snap,’ the first snow-storm, the exciting * coast down the mountain,’ the Indian 
stories,’ &c , &c. In short, we cordially commend this little book to the seeker 
for Christmas gifts.” — Christian Register, Boston. 


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JOLLY GOOD TIMES; 



OR, 

CHILD LIFE ON A FARM. 

By P. THORNE. Price $1.25. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 


JOLLY Good Times at School. 



’‘O what an Uncle Jerry ! O you splendid man ! ” cried Millie. — Page 135^ 


ALSO, SOME TIMES NOT QUITE SO JOLLY. 

By P. THORNE. Price $1.25. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers 


HAMEETON’S BOY-BOOK, 



HARRY BLOUNT. Passages in a Boy’s Life on Land 
and Sea. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton. Price $1.25. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

Boston. 


LOUISA M. ALCOTT’S FAMOUS BOOKS. 



LITTLE MEN ; or, Life at Plumfield with Jo’s 


Boys. Price, $1.50. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers ^ Boston, 


fijll of admiration and alarm.” — Page 25U 



MRS, EWING-^S STORIES. 



“ What’s your name, boy ? ” — Page 247. 


JAN OF THE WINDMILL. 

A STORY OF THE PLAINS. 

By Mrs. Ewing. Price, 50 cents. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, PublisJiers, 

BOSTON. 


FLORA SHAW’S POPULAR BOOKS 



HECTOR; A Siory. 


By Flora L. Shaw, author o£ “ Castle Blair,” and “ Phyllis 
Browne.” 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 

i6mo. Cloth. Price $i.oo. 

— # — 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

BOSTON. 


Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publicaaons. 



DONALD AND DOROTHY. 

By MARY MAPES DODGE. 

Beautifully Illustrated and Bound. Price $1.50. 


An honest tribute from an admiring fi'iend. 

“ Dear Mrs. Dodge, — I have just finished your book called * Donald anl 
Dorothy’ for the third or fourth time, and would like very much to know 
'Whether Dorothy is a real person, and if so, what is her name ? I am nearly 
ns old as Dorothy was at the close of the book, so am very much interested 
in her. I would also lixe to know how old she is, and where she lives. If you 
i/ould be kind enough to reply, you would greatly oblige 

“ Your admiring friend,” ■ 


MBS. DODGE’S POPULAS BOOK 


A Portrait of Dorothy at Sixteen. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston 


Messrs. Robefts Brothers Publications. 


Nelly’S Silver Mine. 

By H. H. 

With Illustrations. i6nio, cloth. Price ^1.50. 

♦ 

“ The sketches of life, especially of its odd and out-of-the-way aspects, by H. H. 
llways possess so vivid a reality that they appear more like the actual scenes than 
any copy by pencil or photograph. They form a series of living pictures, radiant 
with sunlight and fresh as morning dew. In this new story the fruits of her fine 
genius are of Colorado growth, and though without the antique flavor of her recol- 
lections of Rome and Venice, aie as delicious to the taste as they are tempting to 
the eye, and afford a natural feast of exquisite quality.” — N. Y. Tribune. 

“This charming little book, written for children’s entertainment and instruc- 
tion, is equally delightful to the fathers and mothers. It is life in New England, 
and the racy history of a long railway journey to the wilds of Colorado. The 
children are neither imps nor angels, but just such children as are found in every 
happy home. The pictures are so graphically drawn that we feel well acquainted 
with Rob and Nelly, have travelled with them and climbed mountains and found 
silver mines, and know all about the rude life made beautiful by a happy family, 
and can say of Nelly, with their German neighbor, Mr. Kleesman, ‘Ach well, she 
haf better than any silver mine in her own self.’ ” — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

“In ‘Nelly’s Silver Mine’ Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson has given us a true 
classic for the nursery and the school-room, but its readers will not be confined to 
any locality. Its vivid portraiture of Colorado life and its truth to child-nature 
give it a charm which the most experienced cannot fail to feel. It will stand by 
the side of Miss Edgeworth and Mrs. Barbauld in all the years to come.” — Mrs. 
Caroline H. Dali. 

‘'We heartily commend the book for its healthy spirit, its lively narrative, and 
its freedom from most of the faults of books for children.” — Atlantic Monthly. 

• 

Our publications are to he had of all Booksellers. When 
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ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 







“ The sparrow again waited until the child had almost reached him.” 

SPARROW THE TRAMP. 

HOEFT. With illustrations by Jessie McDermott. Price, ^1.25. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON. 



Messrs. Roberts Brothers Publications. 


TREASURE ISLAND: 

< 3 , Storg of tijc .SpanfeJ) JMatn. 

By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 


With Illustrations by F. T. Merrill. 

i6mo. Cloth, Ji.oo ; paper covers, 50 cents. 

♦ 

“ Buried treasure is one of the very foundations of romance. . . . This is 
the theory on which Mr. Stevenson has written ‘Treasure Island.’ Primarily 
it IS a book for boys, with a boy-hcro and a string of wonderful adventures 
But it is a book for boys which will be delightful to all grown men who have the 
sentiment of treasure-hunting and are touched with the true spirit of the Spanish 
Main. Like all Mr Stevenson’s good work, it is touched with genius It is 
written — in that crisp, choice, nervous English of which he has the secret — with 
such a union of measure and force as to be in its way a masterpiece of narrative. 
It is rich in excellent characterization, in an abundant invention, in a certain grim 
romance, in a vein of what must, for want of a better word, be described as melo- 
drama, which is both thrilling and peculiar. It is the work of one who knows all 
there is to be known about ‘ Robinson Crusoe,’ and to whom Dumas is some- 
thing more than a great amuscur ; and it is in some ways the best thing he has 
produced.” — London Saturday Review. 

“ His story is skilfully constructed, and related with untiring vivacity and genuine 
dramatic power. It is calculated to fascinate the old boy as well as the young, 
the reader of Smollett and Dr. Moore and Marryatt as well as the admirer of the 
dexterous ingenuity of Poe. It deals with a mysterious island, a buried treasure, 
the bold buccaneer, and all the stirring incidents of a merry life on the Main. . . 
We can only add that we shall be surprised if ‘ Treasure Island ’ does not satisfj 
the most exacting lover of perilous adventures and thrilling situations.” — Londot 
A cademy. 

” Any one who has read ‘ The New Arabian Nights ’ will recognize at one 
Mr Stevenson’s qualifications for telling a good buccaneer story. Mr. Stever 
son’s genius is not wholly unlike that of Poe, but it is Poe strongly impregnate 
with Marryatt. Yet we doubt if either of those writers ever succeeded in makir 
a reader identify himself with the supposed narrator of a story, as he cannot t? • 
to do in the present case. As we follow the narrative of the boy Jim Hawkn 
we hold our breath in his dangers, and breathe again at his escapes. ” — Londot 
A tlienceum. 

.. 


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